A Hard Knock Life
by ctoan
Summary: [Complete]Ryan gets in trouble. Set sometime in the future and ignoring Season 2. For maudgonne. Because she asked.
1. A Night at The Palace

"Ryan! Look at this!" Seth came crashing through the pool house door, waving a green flyer.

Ryan looked up from where he was doing push-ups on the floor. He dropped onto his knees to grab the towel that was lying on the bed, wiping the sweat off his face and arms as he stood up. "What is it?" He threw the towel back on the chair and grabbed the flyer out of Seth's hand.

"Galactic Crush!" Seth seemed very pleased with this announcement, but Ryan had no clue what he was talking about. "Galactic Crush, Ryan. They're the next big thing. Everyone's talking about them. Well, maybe not everyone, but everyone should be because, as I said, they're the next big thing."

Seth moved closer to read the flyer over Ryan's shoulder, but took a step back when his nose reminded him that Ryan had just been working out. He pointed to the flyer from a safe distance. "See? They're playing at The Palace this weekend."

Ryan scanned the flyer quickly and stopped halfway down when something caught his eye. "Seth. The Palace is in Long Beach."

"So?"

"So do you think we need to go to Long Beach just to hear a band?" Ryan walked up behind the bar to get a bottle of water from the mini-fridge.

"Yes, Ryan. Yes, I do. Because they're the next big thing. Could you really live with yourself if you missed out on the next big thing? And besides, you spent your birthday hacking up a lung and trying to keep Mom's chicken noodle soup down – though really, that part may have had less to do with the flu and more to do with Mom's cooking - and then you insisted on actually studying for midterms – we're seniors, Ryan; seniors don't study - and now it's, like, a month later and we haven't celebrated yet. And it's just not right to not celebrate your eighteenth birthday. It'd be like Superman not rescuing someone in danger. Just not right."

Ryan shook his head. Some days he couldn't even pretend to follow Seth's train of thought. "I don't know."

"It'll be fun, Ryan. Come on. Please?"

"I'll think about it." He walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

He turned on the hot water and let the bathroom fill with steam. He had been studying a lot lately and a night out would do him some good. But he couldn't resist making Seth work for it. It was the dynamic of their friendship from the beginning. Seth always acted like Ryan would say no, which he never did, and Ryan always acted like he was going to say no, which he never did.

The last time he and Seth had gone to Long Beach, things hadn't ended well. But that was a long time ago and they were older now, and more mature. He walked out of the bathroom and saw Seth lying on his bed, rolling from the head to the foot, counting as he did and then falling onto the floor.

He looked up at Ryan. "Hey, did you know I can roll 5 times before I fall off?"

Ryan laughed. Okay, maybe not more mature. "All right, we'll go."

Seth pumped his fist. "Yes! Now all we have to do is run it past the parents. Should be no problem."

* * *

"Long Beach?" Sandy shook his head as he passed a plate to Kirsten. "I don't know, guys." 

Seth had decided that suppertime would be a perfect time to broach the subject. The way he'd explained it to Ryan was that food triggered happy endorphins in the brain, and they'd be less likely to say no with a stomach full of food.

"Come on, Dad," Seth said. "We're eighteen. We're adults in the eyes of the law. It's not like we really need your permission."

Ryan jumped in before Seth torpedoed their chances of going out, ever. "Except, of course, that we live under your roof and need the use of the car." He glared at Seth. "What Seth meant to say was that Long Beach isn't actually that far, and we promise to make curfew." Seth had actually wanted to ask for a later curfew, but Ryan didn't want to push their luck.

Seth made an appeal to his mother. "It's for Ryan's birthday. Remember how he was on death's door and you were so worried about him? And now that he's made this miraculous recovery, it just wouldn't be right if he didn't get to celebrate."

"Miraculous recovery? He had the flu, Seth." But Ryan could see that she was wavering so he kept his eyes on Sandy as she thought it over. "What do you think, Sandy?"

"There'll be no drinking?"

"No." Ryan was relieved. Sandy was going to say yes.

"Of course not." Seth was already starting to bounce.

"And you'll be home by curfew?"

Ryan saw Seth start to protest, and quickly jumped in. "Home by curfew. No problem."

Seth sighed. "Home by curfew."

* * *

When they arrived at The Palace, there was already a line forming outside. Seth was complaining that they were late because Ryan wanted to help Kirsten move some furniture and then there had been more traffic than there should have been on the highway, and why hadn't they left earlier? But Ryan knew that the doors were just opening, and it was just a bottleneck of people waiting to get in and that they were in no way late. 

He had become inured to Seth's babble and so wasn't exactly paying attention to what he was saying. Unfortunately, he also wasn't paying attention to where he was walking either, and bumped into the guy in front of him.

"Watch it!" The guy who turned around and glared at him was tall. He had about five inches and fifty pounds on Ryan. His dark hair was shorn close, revealing a scar that ran from his temple to his ear.

"Sorry, man. I wasn't paying attention."

The guy looked him up and down. "You're a little far from home, aren't you?"

"What?"

"You're not from around here. They don't got clubs where you're from? You gotta come here to ours?"

Ryan sighed. It seemed like every guy he met from Long Beach tended towards psychotic. "Look, we're just here to see the band."

"Jake, come on." The guy's friends were calling to him as the line was moving again and they started letting more people in.

Jake glared at Ryan. "Stay out of my way tonight. You don't want to cross me." He turned and joined his friends.

Seth shook his head. "How'd he know we aren't from around here?"

"Look at us."

"What? We're wearing jeans and T-shirts, just like him."

"Can you tell the difference between a twenty dollar pair of jeans and a ninety dollar pair of jeans?"

"Yeah."

"Well, so can he."

Seth nodded. "It's amazing. Some people can go their whole lives and never get in a fistfight. You just seem to draw them to you."

"I know. I guess I'll just have to do my best to avoid him tonight."

"Yeah," Seth said as they made their way into the club. "Good luck with that.

Inside, the club was one big room, but felt like it was divided into two rooms, with the stage in the back room and the bar along the side wall. They meandered their way through the tables in the front room and found a place along the wall near the stage. They stood together and watched the people as they filled up the bar. Ryan noticed a cute redhead staring at him, so he smiled at her. She winked at him and smiled right back.

The band came on stage, but they weren't that good at all. "We came all the way to Long Beach to hear this?"

"No, man, this is the opening act. Galactic Crush won't be on until later."

Ryan tried to listen to them, but his ears couldn't stand the racket. "I'm gonna go to the bar. You want anything?"

"Sure," Seth said. "Mountain Dews all around."

Ryan pushed his way through the crowd, making his way back to the front room. As he stood at the bar waiting for his drink order, he felt a sharp jab in his side. He turned to see Jake glaring at him. "I told you to stay out of my way."

"Look, man, I paid to get in, same as you." He picked up his drinks. "Just leave me alone."

Jake bumped his arm, spilling one of the drinks over his hand.

"Watch it," Ryan said. "I'm not looking for trouble, but you can't push me around. Back off."

"Are you threatening me?"

"No, you're threatening me. I'm just telling you, it's not working."

Ryan made his way back to Seth, where the first band was still playing and still sucking. He handed Seth a Mountain Dew, and downed what was left of the one Jake had spilled. When the band finally finished their set, Ryan was relieved. Seth headed off for the bathroom, so Ryan leaned against the wall, waiting for Galactic Crush to start. He felt a presence beside him, and turned to find the redhead from earlier.

"Hi," she said. "I'm Amanda."

He nodded back at her. "Ryan."

She put her hand on his arm. "You're not from around here, are you? I don't remember seeing you before."

"Yeah, no. We're just here," he pointed at the stage, "to hear the band."

"Yeah? What did you think of the first band? They're the house band; they always open here."

"Truthfully? I think they sucked."

"Really? Everyone always raves about them, and I thought I was missing something." She smiled at him and leaned towards him. "I'm glad to know it's not just me."

Suddenly Ryan felt a hand on his shoulder, and he got spun around. "What are you doing with my girlfriend?"

Ryan looked from Amanda to Jake, the owner of the hand. He groaned inwardly. Seth was right – he did have a knack.

"Jake, I'm not your girlfriend anymore. I told you yesterday. We're through."

Jake was ignoring her, concentrating on Ryan. "You think you can just waltz in here and steal our women?"

Our women? Was Long Beach still in the Stone Age? Come to think of it, Jake did look a little like Fred Flintstone. "Look, man, I'm not looking for trouble. I just wanted to hear the band. Besides, she started talking to me."

This didn't seem to calm Jake down at all. "So you're saying she's a slut?"

Before he could protest, Jake pushed him forcefully. He fell backwards, but luckily the wall was there to catch him. Ryan shoved Jake back. "I said to leave me alone."

"Stop it, Jake," Amanda said. "That's enough."

"Yeah, that's enough," Jake said. He turned to walk away, but then wheeled around quickly and punched Ryan.

Ryan's head snapped back and hit the wall again. He was lunging back towards Jake when he was grabbed from behind. "There's no fighting in here," a voice from behind him said. "You can take this outside, away from here." Ryan's arm was twisted behind his back as he was led towards the door. He saw Jake being strong-armed beside him.

Ryan was pushed out the door, and had to catch himself before he went headfirst into the sidewalk. He heard the bouncer talking to Jake. "Look, this is the third time this month we've had to kick you out for fighting. You're not allowed back."

Ryan walked away from Jake and sat down on the curb, trying to figure out what to do now. Seth had a cell phone, but he didn't, and he wasn't sure if Seth had seen what had happened or not. He couldn't go back in to get him. He figured the best thing to do was just wait there until Seth came out when it was time to go home. This was the worst fake birthday he'd ever had.

He felt a hand grab his arm. "Get up, rich boy. We're not done." Ryan was hauled to his feet. He was looking into the face of a very angry man - an angry man who also seemed to be fairly drunk. Unfortunately, not drunk enough that Ryan could take him in a fight, and he couldn't see a way out of it. This guy seemed to be ready for a fight, and he had his sight set on Ryan.

"Look, man. I'm sorry for whatever I did that pissed you off. Okay? I just don't think we need to do this."

Jake spun him around and pushed him towards the alley beside The Palace. "I need to do this."

Ryan backed up into the alley until he bumped into a dumpster. He didn't take his eyes off Jake, who was advancing towards him. The look on Jake's face was one Ryan recognized from his days in Chino. It was a look that meant the owner was in a blind rage, and the only defense was duck and cover – he was past the point of reason.

Jake came lumbering towards him. As he swung, Ryan spun to his right, ending up against the brick wall of the club. This just seemed to anger Jake further. "Come here, you little punk." He threw his whole body at Ryan, and Ryan didn't have time to get out of the way. He felt the wind get knocked out him as he was crushed against the wall. Jake pulled back to slam into him again, but Ryan ducked under the blow and scrambled behind him.

Jake turned around with a quick roundhouse punch and his speed caught Ryan off guard. He felt an explosion of pain in his cheek, as his head snapped sideways and his body was propelled backwards. When he recovered his balance, he lowered his shoulder and drove it into Jake's midsection, knocking Jake back against the wall. Jake recovered quickly and responded with some quick uppercuts into Ryan's ribs.

Ryan's chest was aching and he loosened his grip on Jake. Jake shoved him away, and Ryan stumbled backwards against some crates on the opposite side of the alley. He pushed off them, and ran at Jake again, head butting him in the stomach, pushing him back. Jake doubled over, and Ryan brought his knee up, smashing Jake's nose. He shoved Ryan again, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Jake reached down and grabbed Ryan's hair, pulling him back to his feet. His fist slammed into Ryan's face, and with a couple of more body blows, Ryan was back against the crates again. This time, Jake was looming over him. He grabbed Ryan around the neck and started squeezing. Ryan leaned back until he was lying on the crates, trying alternately to fight against the bigger man's hands around his throat and gouge his eyes out. He was getting dizzy and struggling to breathe. He worked his legs up, pushing against Jake. Finally, he got his knees up to his chest. With all the strength he could muster, he got his feet on Jake's chest and kicked as hard as he could. Jake went flying away from him. Ryan rolled on his side, and savored the flow of oxygen into his lungs again. He struggled to sit up, wary of another attack.

When he saw that Jake was collapsed on the other side of the alley, Ryan allowed himself to slide down the side of the crate. He pulled his knees to his chest, wrapped his arms around his legs, and rested his head. He heard the sirens and could see the flashing lights through his closed eyes, but he didn't look up.

* * *

Inside the club, Seth came back from the bathroom just as Galactic Crush started to play. He looked around where they had been, but he couldn't see Ryan anywhere. He saw a throng of people near the front of the stage. He couldn't imagine Ryan willingly moving into a sea of that many people, but Seth thought he should check it out. He pushed his way through to the front, but still couldn't find Ryan. He got a lot of dirty looks as he elbowed his way back through the crowd. 

Now Seth didn't know what to do. It wasn't like Ryan to take off without saying anything. He decided that he must have gone to the bar again and would be back soon. He returned to where he last saw him and watched the band.

Beside him, he overheard some girls talking. "So Jake got kicked out for fighting again?"

"Yeah." Her friend laughed. "I kind of instigated it, too. God, he's just always hovering. So I started flirting with this really cute guy. Sure enough, it set Jake off. The bouncers were watching him, anyway, and as soon he threw a punch, they were on them. They both got kicked out."

A fistfight? Typical. He couldn't take Ryan anywhere without something happening. But maybe he was jumping to conclusions. Maybe it wasn't Ryan at all. He turned and headed for the front room. Outside the window, he could see the cop car lights flashing and rushed out the door.

* * *

"Keep your hands where I can see them, and stand up please." 

Ryan lifted his head and blinked at the flashlight that was shining at him. He put his hands on the ground in front of him and pushed himself up. The cop came over and quickly patted him down. "Can you tell me what happened here?"

Ryan leaned a little against the crate. "We were fighting, I guess."

"About what?"

Ryan thought about the question. "A girl?" He shrugged. "I don't really know."

The cop asked him for ID. "A little far from home, aren't you?" he asked when he noticed the Newport Beach address. Ryan just shrugged because what else could he say. The cop brought him over to the squad car and told him to stay by the bumper.

Ryan watched as the cop talked on the radio, no doubt checking him out. Sandy had told him that when he turned eighteen, his records would be sealed and he'd be clean again. He had been curious about it, but had hoped that he wouldn't have to test it to find out. He looked over at the cop who was with Jake. Jake was still lying on the ground, and that didn't seem right to Ryan. Then he saw that cop come over to the squad car and talk with the first cop, but he couldn't hear what they were saying.

The first cop came back "I'll bet you wish now that you never decided to come slumming tonight," he said. "Ryan Atwood, you're under arrest for the death of Jake Malloy." The cop continued to read him his rights as he cuffed his hands behind his back, but Ryan couldn't really hear him. All the blood had drained from his head; his ears were buzzing and it was all he could do to keep his legs under him and not collapse to the ground.

TBC


	2. Questioning

Seth barreled out of The Palace. His eyes immediately fell on Ryan being loaded into a cop car, hands cuffed behind his back. Seth paled at the sight of him. His face was bruised; there was dried blood under his nose and a gash on his cheek.

Ryan didn't notice Seth as the cop car pulled away, but Seth couldn't take his eyes off Ryan. He looked so defeated. That was when Seth looked into the alley. There were cops swarming and he saw a body with the sheet pulled completely over the person's head. He looked back at the police car driving away with Ryan in handcuffs. What the hell happened?

He pulled out his cell phone to call his dad.

* * *

Sandy and Kirsten were enjoying a night with the house to themselves - the jets were on in the hot tub, Solomon Burke was on the stereo, and Sandy was just topping up their glasses with wine when the phone started to ring. He went to put his glass down but Kirsten put her arms around him, snuggling closer. "No, Sandy, we agreed. No work tonight, so no answering the phone. The boys are out; there's no need to answer it." 

Sandy wasn't convinced. "But what if it's important?"

She leaned over and started nibbling his ear. "More important than this?"

"Mmm." Sandy chuckled. "There's nothing more important than that."

The phone kept ringing and they kept ignoring it.

* * *

Seth slammed his phone shut, frustrated. His parents' cell phones were off, and they weren't answering the home phone. He tried to think about what to do but he didn't even know where they were taking Ryan. Well, he assumed the police station, but he didn't know where that was. And even if he found the Long Beach police station, he didn't know what he'd do when he got there. He wouldn't be allowed to see Ryan. Certainly wouldn't be allowed to talk to him. Where the hell was his dad?

* * *

The cop led Ryan into the station. He removed Ryan's handcuffs and put him in the holding cell until he could be processed. Ryan looked at the small room. It had a bench along the back wall, which was already occupied. An older man who reeked so much it was all Ryan could do not to cover his nose was sprawled on the right side, obviously drying out. On the left was a younger guy, though older than Ryan. He looked mean. So Ryan's choices were to sit on the bench between these guys, sit on the floor by Tough Guy, or sit on the floor by Smelly Guy. He didn't like any of his options. 

His whole body ached. He eased himself down on the floor by Smelly Guy, as far away as he could possibly get. He tried to avoid eye contact – it was one of the first things he learned in juvie. He put his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, trying to process how he ended up here again. He and Seth were supposed to have had a fun night out, listening to some good music. Why did trouble always seem to find him?

"What are you here for?"

Ryan jerked his head up. Just his luck. Tough Guy was a conversationalist. He licked his lips. "Fighting." No. It was more than that. He stared Tough Guy in the eye. "A guy died."

"You killed him?"

Ryan shrugged noncommittally. He had no idea what happened, or how Jake died. The cops seemed to think it was his fault. And it wouldn't hurt if Tough Guy thought so too. As scared as he was of what was going to happen to him, he knew better than to let his fear show. The first sign of weakness and the sharks moved in for the kill.

"Atwood?"

Ryan looked up at the cop.

"You're coming with me."

Ryan stood up and waited for the cop to unlock the door. When he stepped outside the cell, the cop told him to turn around, and then handcuffed him again. The cop pulled his arms more than necessary, but Ryan knew better than to react – he had to stay even and pretend nothing was wrong. The cop grabbed his arm and pulled him along the corridor.

"How'd you like it in there?" The cop was leaning right in his face. "Those guys are nothing compared to what you're going to be facing." The cop sounded amused, like he was enjoying Ryan's fear. "Are you scared?" Ryan glanced over out the corner of his eye, but didn't say anything. The cop's voice turned cold. "Well, you should be."

The cop took Ryan into fingerprinting. Through the whole process, the cop wouldn't shut up. He was worse than Seth. At least with Seth though, the constant stream of words meant nothing. This guy was trying to get under Ryan's skin.

Thumb of the right hand. "You know, your daddy's money isn't going to save you." Ring finger of the right hand. "You have no idea how easy you've had it." Thumb of the left hand. "Kids like you aren't cut out for prison." Middle finger of left hand. "You'll never last in there." Pinky of left hand. "They'll eat you alive."

Ryan just ignored the onslaught of words. He knew more about prison than he cared to. His dad. His brother. The rules in prison wouldn't be much different than they were in juvie. It was the same people; they were all just older. Ryan hated juvie. He had no doubt that prison would be no better.

After taking his mug shot, the cop brought him to an interrogation room. He took Ryan's cuffs off and left him alone. Ryan paced the room. A few minutes later, a detective came in and after introducing himself, pointed to a chair, indicating that Ryan should sit. "Do you want to tell me what happened tonight?"

Ryan's mind had become focused on one thing. "I need to call Sandy."

"Who's Sandy?"

"My guardian."

"You're over eighteen. You don't get to have a parent with you."

"I know. But I do get a phone call, don't I?"

The detective nodded. He got a phone for Ryan, who dialed the Cohen's number, but he had no idea what he was going to say. It didn't matter. There was no answer. Ryan left a message and hung up.

"Are you ready to talk now?"

Ryan shook his head. "Not until I talk to Sandy."

* * *

Sandy and Kirsten were curled up together on the couch in their robes, watching a movie. When he heard the front door open, Sandy glanced at his watch. It was only 11 o'clock. It couldn't be the boys yet. 

"Hello?" The voice carried down the hallway.

Kirsten disentangled herself from Sandy and sat up. "Dad?" She saw him walking down the corridor towards them. "What are you doing here?"

"Seth called me in a panic. Said he was trying to get a hold of you but you weren't answering the phone. So I came over to see if I could find you."

"Seth? Is everything OK?"

"He wouldn't tell me what he wanted. Just that he needed to talk to Sandy."

Sandy got up and walked over to the answering machine in the kitchen. He saw that there were four messages waiting. He turned up the volume and pressed play.

_+beep+ Dad? It's Seth. Where are you? I think Ryan's in trouble. I'm going to try your cell._

_+beep+ Dad? Your cell is off. Why aren't you picking up? I don't know what to do. Pick up, Dad. Ryan needs you._

_+beep+ Pick up, Dad. Please. Where the hell is the police station? Dad, I don't know where you are, but you have to pick up. Pick up, pick up, pick up. Ryan needs you._

_+beep+ Sandy? I'm in trouble and I need your help. Um, I'm at the Long Beach police station. _They heard Ryan take a haltering breath. _It's, uh, it's pretty serious. _

All three stood just stood there, trying to absorb what they had just heard. Sandy recovered first. He grabbed his car keys from the counter and headed for the door.

"Uh, Sanford?" Sandy turned back to Caleb. "The police might take you more seriously if you put on pants."

Sandy looked down; he almost walked out of the house wearing his robe. He realized he needed to stop and think for a minute before they did anything.

"Okay, Kirsten, you should probably come with me to deal with Seth. I don't know how long I'll be at the police station and that way you two can head home and I'll still have a car."

Kirsten nodded. "And we both need to get dressed."

"Dressed." Sandy took a deep breath. "Right. We should both get dressed before we drive to Long Beach."

They hurriedly threw on some clothes and a few minutes later, they were heading out the door.

"I'll call Seth and let him know you're on your way," Caleb said.

Kirsten kissed his cheek. "Thanks, Dad. And can you stay here, in case Ryan calls again? Let him know we're coming to get him?"

"Sure thing, Kiki."

Kirsten hurried outside, where Sandy already had the car started. The car was quiet as they drove, both unsure of what they would find waiting in Long Beach.

TBC


	3. County Jail

The detective didn't know what to do with this kid who wouldn't talk to him. He hadn't demanded a lawyer, but insisted he talk to his guardian. It was maddening. He just sat there and stared at the table – wouldn't even look at the detective. Finally, he gave up. "If you aren't going to give a statement, we're putting you on the next transfer to county jail. You've got half an hour."

The kid nodded, so he knew he heard, but he still didn't look up and still didn't say anything.

* * *

When Sandy and Kirsten arrived at the police station, they found Seth sitting on the steps, looking very dejected. He stood up when he saw his parents, heading straight to Kirsten for a hug. Sandy hadn't seen Seth voluntarily latch onto his mother in a very long time. Sandy watched him engulf Kirsten in the embrace, and was reminded that he wasn't a little boy anymore. 

"What happened?" Kirsten said.

"I don't know." Seth's voice was high-pitched, but Sandy could see the worry leaving his face now that he wasn't alone. "I went to the bathroom and the next thing I knew, Ryan was being driven away in a cop car."

"You didn't see what happened?"

Seth shook his head. "Just the guy in the alley. I think he was dead."

Kirsten looked at Sandy in alarm.

"I'd better get inside and see if I can sort this out." Sandy put a reassuring hand on Seth's shoulder and kissed Kirsten's cheek and headed up the stairs.

Inside, the station was busy. The desk sergeant was doing paper work as Sandy walked over to him. "I'm here to see Ryan Atwood. I believe you have him in custody."

"He's not allowed visitors."

Sandy pulled out his card. "I'm his lawyer."

"Oh. Okay, Mr…" The sergeant paused to read the card. "…Cohen. Your client is in interrogation room three. Up these stairs, turn left, second door on the right."

"What's the charged?"

The sergeant flipped through some papers. "Manslaughter. Killed another guy in a bar fight."

Manslaughter? Sandy's stomach flipped when the gravity of the situation hit him. He had been hoping Seth had been reading the situation wrong and blowing it out of proportion. Not that Ryan being in custody wasn't serious, but manslaughter was much more severe than the assault or drunken disorderly he had expected to find when he got here.

He went up the stairs, following the sergeant's directions to the interrogation room. He paused to take a deep breath before he opened the door, trying to collect himself before facing Ryan. He had defended plenty of manslaughter cases in his career, but he'd never expected to be dealing with someone in his family. For Ryan's sake, he needed to try to push his fear for Ryan aside and think of him as a client. At the moment, Ryan would need him in lawyer mode; parental mode could be saved for when he got Ryan home. He opened the door and found Ryan sitting with his head down on the table. He didn't look up when he heard the door open.

"Ryan?"

At the sound of Sandy's voice, he picked his head up. Sandy's heart skipped a beat. He looked so forlorn, and scared.

Sandy tried to force a smile. "Hey, kid. What happened?"

Ryan shook his head. "I don't know."

As he sat opposite him, Sandy noticed his neck. "What happened to your neck?"

Ryan's hand went to his throat. "What's wrong with my neck?"

Sandy stood up and pulled Ryan over to the two-way mirror. "The bruises go all around your neck, Ryan. Where'd you get them?"

Ryan was staring at them. "It must have been when Jake was choking me."

"Who's Jake?"

"The guy that died." His voice was practically a whisper, as if he didn't want to actually say the words out loud.

"Did you know him?"

Ryan shook his head.

"What happened after he choked you?"

"I kicked him away."

"And then?"

"And then the police came."

Sandy waited to see if he would say anything else, but he seemed to be done talking for now. He seemed better with the fine details than the overall picture. "Have the police taken pictures of your neck?"

"You mean my mug shot?"

Sandy sighed. "No, not your mug shot. Like evidence."

Ryan shook his head.

"OK, I'm going to find the detective and see why all the evidence wasn't taken. Then we'll talk to him and try to tell him everything that happened. All right?"

Ryan nodded.

"All right. Sit tight, and I'll be back in a few minutes."

Sandy left the room, ready to give the detective a piece of his mind. Ryan had been choked hard enough to leave nasty bruises, and he was the one being charged with manslaughter?

Ryan looked up when the door opened again, expecting Sandy to return with the detective. Instead, it was Officer Fontaine. "Stand up and put your hands behind your back," he said.

Ryan did as he was told. As the officer was putting on the handcuffs, Ryan said, "But I was supposed to be waiting for the detective to come back."

Officer Fontaine knew that Atwood's lawyer had shown up, but his name was still on the midnight transfer sheet, and no one had specifically told him otherwise, so he played dumb. "Detective told me that you were to be transferred if you hadn't made a statement. Have you made a statement?"

"No, but…"

The officer wrenched Ryan's arms a little tighter. "No. So you're being transferred to County."

Sandy was surprised to find Ryan gone when he got back to the room with the detective. The detective called Officer Fontaine over. "Where's Atwood?"

"I transferred him to County, like you said."

"His lawyer's here. He wasn't supposed to be transferred."

"Oh. No one told me."

Sandy was livid. "Get him back then."

"We can't, now that he's in transit." The detective seemed genuinely sorry. "County has jurisdiction over him now."

Sandy ran his hand through his hair. "Can I see him over there?"

Detective shook his head. "Not until morning. They don't allow visits at night."

"So what about the evidence that was missed?"

The detective wasn't going to apologize for that. "I barely saw the kid's face when I talked to him. There's no way I could see his neck. We'll just have to document it tomorrow at the arraignment."

"What about him?" Sandy indicated Officer Fontaine. "Shouldn't he have noticed?"

Fontaine agreed with the detective. "He kept his head down a lot. I couldn't see his neck either."

Sandy pulled out Ryan's file they had given him, and opened it to the mug shot. They all looked at it, and the bruises weren't visible yet. "See," Fontaine said. "The bruises hadn't shown up yet. I couldn't have seen them."

"Look, Mr Cohen," the detective said, "I'm sorry he got transferred prematurely, but you'll have plenty of time to talk to him tomorrow before his arraignment. It's not that big of a deal."

"Easy for you to say. I'll expect a copy of the ME's report on the other guy as soon as you get it. And believe me, if it's delayed in any way, shape, or form, you'll be the one explaining to the judge how the police were withholding evidence and denying me access to my client." Sandy stormed away to see if Kirsten and Seth had gone home yet.

* * *

Ryan was in the back of the police van, hands cuffed behind his back. He was giving up hope that this was some sort of terrible nightmare; it was actually happening. Again. He didn't know why he thought that once Sandy showed up, things would be okay. It was a foolish thought and he should have known better. For the past two years, he had been fooling himself that he could rise above the Atwood luck. 

He leaned his head back against the side of the van. He wondered if Sandy knew where he was. He thought Sandy would have told him if he had known Ryan was going to be transferred. It seemed like all night he was being snatched from the Cohens without them knowing, and Ryan didn't like the feeling of being all alone when no one knew where he was.

He opened his eyes slightly, to study the other inmates in the van with him, hopefully without them noticing. Tough Guy from earlier was there; a middle-aged guy who Ryan heard mention something about DUI; and a couple of young guys who Ryan would lay money on that they were there for drugs. Except young meant early twenties, which mean older than him. He realized he had been wrong earlier. Prison wasn't going to be like juvie at all. At juvie, everyone was his age and he could blend in. Here, he was going to be young, and stick out. There was nothing he hated more than sticking out.

The van bumped to a stop and he realized he must have drifted off briefly. He was achy, and sore, and tired. They weren't pleasant thoughts, but they were thoughts of the present. And they were better than thoughts of what was going to happen in the immediate future. He tried to continue to focus on right now, because if he thought too much about what was going to happen soon, he'd probably be sick. Achy neck, sore ribs, tired legs. He wished he didn't know what was coming. He was terrified the first time, but he'd give anything right now to be terrified of the unknown, rather than dreading the inevitable.

* * *

Sandy found Kirsten and Seth sitting together in the station lobby. He had thought they were going to go home, but Kirsten explained they didn't want to go without at least knowing what had happened. Sandy wished he could tell them. He explained how Ryan had been transferred to jail before he could get any real information out of him. 

"Did he really kill that guy?" Seth was looking to his father to reassure him, to tell him that of course Ryan didn't do it. But Sandy couldn't. Sandy didn't know.

"They were fighting and he died. That's as much as I know right now." Sandy looked at his weary family, and wished they were all, all four of them, home in Newport in their respective beds, safe and sound. But they were in Long Beach, with a long drive ahead of them before three of them were home safe. The fourth wasn't getting a warm, comforting bed that night and that was enough for Sandy to know he wouldn't get a good night's sleep either.

As much as he didn't want Kirsten driving home alone, Sandy's priority was figuring out what happened that night, so he suggested Seth ride with him and tell him what he could about Ryan's night. The sooner he could piece it together, the sooner he could figure out how to save him.

* * *

Ryan walked into the initial Intake Room with the other detainees. He looked at the molded plastic chairs attached to the wall, the wooden desk at the front of the room, the line on the floor, even the man at the desk – they were all the same, everywhere. Different colors maybe, different sizes, doors in different spots, but it didn't matter. It was the end of being Ryan Atwood and the beginning of being a number. It sucked, he hated it, and he didn't want to be here. He wasn't supposed to be here. 

When his name was called, he stood on the line and answered the rapid-fire questions that the guard asked as if he wasn't even listening for the answers. He probably wasn't. Ryan didn't hear half of what he was asked, but it didn't matter. This was just a formality – the first step in taking away his identity.

The guard who escorted him to the next stage of the process could rival Seth for babbling. He seemed to be trying to make Ryan feel better, trying to reassure him that the next few hours wouldn't really be that bad. Ryan just wanted him to shut up. It was the middle of the night and Ryan wanted to be in bed. His bed, preferably, but at this point, any bed would do. He was just tired. Too tired to listen to some guy go on about how it wasn't going to be that bad. Had this guy ever been through here? Did he know what it felt like? No._Just shut up_, Ryan wanted to scream at him. But he couldn't. Because Ryan knew even the nicest of guards could turn in a second, and then this experience would go from terrible to horrible. So Ryan just tried to tune him out the best he could and hoped he'd shut up eventually.

When they reached the shower area, Ryan felt his heartbeat quicken and he concentrated on controlling his breathing. He removed his clothing and put it in the bag. He kept his eyes closed and tried not to think about what he was doing, as he raised his arms over his head, bent his ears forward, spread his fingers. He concentrated on keeping his breathing steady as he manipulated his genitals. He imagined he was at the doctor's office as he bent over and coughed. Except the doctor never made him pull his buttocks apart, and as he stood up he knew he was damn near close to losing it.

And then the water came on, and he couldn't imagine he was home having a shower, because the water in his shower was always hot, and this water wasn't hot. It wasn't even warm. He was generous to call it tepid and he started shivering as the guard told him to hurry up and soap up and rinse off. He had barely got the soap out of his eyes when the water turned off. His first instinct was to reach for a big, fluffy towel, but there would be no big, fluffy towels for him. It wasn't even time for any sort of towel; it was time for the delousing spray. Then the guard handed him a thin, small towel and ushered Ryan into a room to get dressed.

As Ryan pulled on the underwear, he shuddered to think of who had worn it before him. The elastic was decent so they wouldn't fall down, and he hated the fact that he knew that was important. He pulled on the undershirt, then slipped the jumpsuit on. It was a long-sleeved jumpsuit, which Ryan preferred. He liked being able to pull his hands up inside the sleeves when it was cold, and he always could because the person in charge of handing out jumpsuits never guessed the right size for him. He pulled on the socks (no holes, good) and the shoes that were too big. He must have looked bigger than he was.

Once he was dressed, the guard took him to the Medical Assessment room. The guard stayed in the room as the nurse first took his temperature and then his blood pressure. She asked him to remove his jumpsuit to his waist, and then took the stethoscope and pressed it against his chest through his undershirt. The pressure caused him to noticeably wince and take a quick breath in defense.

"Are you hurt?" The nurse walked over to the desk where his intake chart lay.

Ryan was tired and wanted to get this over with. "Just from the fight earlier."

"There's nothing here about injuries." She flipped to the second page of the chart. "Take off your shirt; let me see."

Ryan sighed as he pulled his shirt over his head. He noticed the nurse frown when she saw the bruises. "Why wasn't this documented?"

Ryan shrugged. "They probably didn't know about them." When the nurse raised her eyebrows at him, he said, "They never asked."

She looked at the guard. "Didn't you notice these earlier?"

"We saw them, but we're looking for permanent marks, identifiable marks. Bruises fade."

When the nurse started palpitating the bruises on his chest, it was all Ryan could do not to cry out. "I'm worried about your ribs. I think we should tape them."

"No. They're just bruised. I'm fine." He hated having his ribs taped, and he didn't want to deal with the hassle. He just wanted to get out of there and lie down.

"I'm noting on your chart that you refused the taping."

"Fine." Ryan didn't care.

"Do you have any other injuries we should know about?" She pulled out her penlight and shone it in his eyes.

"No. I'm just sore." Ryan was feeling petulant, and he was sure he was sounding petulant, but he was tired of questions, and processing, and people. He wanted out.

The nurse seemed satisfied, because she told him to put his clothes back on and started writing on his chart.

The guard led him out of the room, where he picked up his sheets, a blanket, and a pillow. He carried them through a series of corridors and locked doors, until they arrived at Ryan's cell. His new home. He was too tired to bother with the sheets. Once the guard locked the door behind him, Ryan lay down on the mattress, put his head on the pillow, and pulled the blanket over head.

TBC


	4. Arraignment

It was almost one when Sandy, Kirsten, and Seth arrived home. Sandy went to his office instead of to bed, wanting to go over Ryan's file in greater detail and write down Seth's version of the night while he still remembered it. Unfortunately, Ryan's file was thin and didn't give much information. When the police arrived, the fight was over. Ryan had been on one side of the alley, the victim on the other. The victim had head trauma, and was dead at the scene. The police surmised he had obtained the wound in the course of the fight. Ryan had admitted they were fighting over a girl, but that's all the information he had given.

Sandy rubbed his hand over his face, trying to stay awake a little longer. He decided to give up the fight for the night. He needed to be alert the next day for the arraignment.

He woke up early the next morning. Even though Ryan's arraignment wasn't until noon, he wanted him brought to the courthouse with the people being arraigned at nine. He wanted to keep Ryan out of jail as much as possible, and he wanted as much time with him as he could get to figure out what happened and how they could fix it.

It was six a.m. when he first called the jail. He got a message that no one would take his call until seven a.m. So he waited an hour and called back. This time, the woman he talked to said Ryan couldn't be transferred with the early prisoners, because there wasn't enough time to get all the paperwork in order. She told Sandy he should have called earlier. Sandy tried to calmly explain that he tried to call earlier, but there was no one to answer the phone then. He then asked if he could meet with Ryan at the jail that morning instead, but she informed him that prisoners who were being transferred to the courthouse weren't allowed visitors. Sandy thanked the woman for her time and slammed the phone down. Why was nothing going right?

* * *

Kirsten was walking by as Sandy slammed the phone. She kept walking to the kitchen, to get the coffee started. She hadn't slept well at all that night. She just couldn't wrap her head around it. Had Ryan really killed someone? It didn't seem like the Ryan she knew. But how well did she really know him? How well could you get to know someone in two years? He did have a temper – she knew that. He hadn't been in a fight in over a year, really. She shook her head. He was a good kid. Sandy would fix it.

* * *

Ryan woke up when a loud buzzer disturbed his sleep. He had been in such a deep sleep that he wasn't sure where he was, but as soon as he tried to move, the aches and pains that assaulted his body reminded him exactly what had happened and exactly where he was. As he got up and made his way over to the toilet in the corner, he felt like the sloth he had seen on the Discovery Channel with Seth once. Each movement was slow and deliberate, and he didn't feel like he'd be breaking any land speed records in the near future. 

He had just finished splashing water on his face when a guard came by to unlock his door. "Line up on the white line for breakfast. Keep your hands to yourself and follow the person in front of you."

Ryan nodded and did as he was told. He wasn't especially hungry, but the guard's orders didn't seem optional. As they walked towards the mess hall, he recognized a few of the guys from the ride over the night before. He figured they were in single cells because they arrived so late the night before and would be redistributed to the general population sometime that day.

He kept his head down as he made his way through the food line. He took a muffin and some juice, but passed on the eggs. There was no way his stomach could handle industrial scrambled eggs that morning.

He found an unoccupied table and sat on the end, trying to keep to himself. It didn't work though, and he was soon joined by a group of guys.

"I think they sent you to the wrong place," the leader said as he sat down opposite him. "You don't look old enough to wear orange. What did you do – steal someone's tricycle?"

His cohorts laughed as Ryan felt heat rise from his neck and on his ears. He knew he looked young and he didn't know what to do about it.

"He killed a guy in a fight."

Ryan looked down the table and saw Tough Guy from the night before. He didn't know why he was sticking up for him, but didn't think it was out of kindness.

Leader, as Ryan was referring to him in his head, narrowed his eyes at him. "That true?"

Ryan shrugged in the affirmative. He wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but he was pretty sure he was about to see a pissing contest between Tough Guy and Leader. He was also pretty sure he didn't want to be caught in the middle of it, but that was where he appeared to be.

"What?" Leader said. "Do you let him speak for you?"

He glanced at Tough Guy and then back at Leader. This wasn't good at all. He was being asked right here and now to pick sides and if he picked the losing side, he'd be screwed. But if he picked the winning side, he'd be indebted. He didn't want either. He wanted to be left alone to mind his own business. He looked Leader in the eye. "No one speaks for me but me."

Leader leaned over closer. "Is that right, little man? And what are you saying? Are you crying for your Mama?"

"My mama's not worth crying for," Ryan said. "My dad's in State Prison in Corcoran; my brother's in Chino. I'm just joining the family business."

"You think you're tough, punk? Let me tell you. You ain't seen tough. But you will." He got up to leave, indicating that his posse should follow.

The guy next to him drove his elbow into his side before he got up. His ribs screamed out in protest, but he did his best not to let them see how much it hurt. Once they were away, he let his breath out. Then he noticed Tough Guy still sitting down the table from him.

"You think you don't need my help?"

Ryan just looked at him, eyes wide.

"You'll regret it; don't you worry."

As Ryan was considering the fact that he'd made two enemies before breakfast was officially over on his first day in jail, a guard started reading off the names of the people who were being arraigned that day. He heard his name for the 10:30 bus to the courthouse and hoped Sandy would be there to meet him and that he could do something to get him out of here.

* * *

Sandy arrived at the courthouse early. He'd had a hard time getting out of the house without Seth, who had wanted to come along. He had convinced him that he wouldn't get a chance to talk to Ryan at all, and the plan was for Ryan to be home that afternoon once they could get bail posted. Seth would just be in the way at the courthouse and Sandy didn't need the added distraction. 

He expected he'd have about an hour with Ryan before the arraignment started, and he planned to make good use of the time. He had an associate scheduled to come take photos of Ryan's injuries, and he needed to get Ryan to tell him exactly what had happened.

The door opened and Sandy was relieved to see Ryan again. Ryan shuffled forward, his movement restricted by the leg irons around his ankles.

The sight of Ryan chained set Sandy off. "What's he doing with shackles on?"

"Standard procedure," the guard said. "He's a violent offender, and all violent offenders require leg shackles."

"Take them off of him right now."

"I can't be responsible for what he might do if I take them off."

This was just the last straw in an awful twelve hours for Sandy. "Take them off." Sandy's jaw was clenched to the point of causing himself pain.

The guard removed the leg irons and handcuffs. "Okay. But you're responsible if anything happens. And I have to put them back on for his court appearance."

Once the restraints were off, the guard left and Sandy turned to Ryan sitting at the table. "Now, you are going to tell me exactly what happened last night. You are not going to leave anything out which you might think is irrelevant. That's not for you to decide. If I find out an important detail later on that you should have told me, believe me, you'll regret it."

Ryan was staring at the table. He pursed his lips and simply nodded at Sandy, without looking up at him. And that was when Sandy realized that as bad as the past twelve hours had been for him, they would have been infinitely worse for Ryan.

He sank into his chair and softened his voice. "I'm sorry. I'm just extremely frustrated and I'm tired of getting the run-around. Tell me what happened."

Ryan took in a shuddering breath. "I'm sorry, too, Sandy. For putting you through this. I'm destined to screw things up."

"No, you're not. Just tell me how you ended up in that alley. And start from the beginning."

When Ryan finished telling his story, Sandy was pleased that his version of the line-up incident paralleled Seth's. "So you didn't instigate the fights?"

Ryan was staring at his hands on the table. "No. He was looking for a fight, I think. Didn't matter what I did."

"Okay, so you were just defending yourself from him."

"I guess."

Sandy nodded, feeling better about things already. "At the arraignment, you'll plead not guilty. Then we'll need to set up a meeting with the DA at some point this week. It's obviously self-defense, and hopefully they'll agree and just drop the charges."

Ryan's face showed a glimmer of hope for the first time since Sandy saw him that day. "Do you think they will?"

"How can they not? The evidence seems to support it."

Just then, Sandy's associate arrived with the camera. He made Ryan strip to his waist, so they could get all the bruises. They took pictures of his face, his neck, his battered torso, his bruised hands.

Then the guard returned, but Sandy couldn't watch as he reshackled and handcuffed Ryan for the arraignment.

* * *

Kirsten sat in the courtroom, nervously twisting her rings. Sandy wanted her there so she could post the bail immediately, and get Ryan home faster. In theory she agreed, but she couldn't quite wrap her head around the fact that he had killed someone. Ryan. The sweet, quiet, funny young man who had captured her heart had killed a man. How could it have happened? It didn't seem real. 

She didn't know how she could look at him the same again. Would he be the same again? Maybe he wasn't the same. Maybe he wasn't who she thought he was in the first place. He killed a man. She couldn't get that out of her head.

She felt Sandy sit down next to her; she looked over at him as he took her hand, stilling the nervous twisting. She wanted to know what Ryan said, but she was afraid to ask. "How is he?"

"He's pretty battered, but he's doing okay." Sandy paused, and Kirsten waited for him to tell her what she wanted to know but couldn't ask. "It was an accident, Kirsten. The guy was attacking him and he kicked him away. He didn't know he was dead until he was arrested."

Kirsten nodded, trying to figure out what this meant, how this fit. Killing a man by accident – did that make it better or worse? Then the judge came in and started the arraignments. Drug dealers, armed robbers, murderers. Ryan didn't belong with these people, though the police believed he did.

The clerk called Ryan's case and Kirsten watched him being led in. His hands were cuffed and his legs were shackled. She was shocked to see him like that and wondered what he might have done that would require leg shackles. The guards seemed to think he was dangerous – did she really want to post bail if he were considered dangerous?

But then she looked at his face and her fears were pushed aside and replaced with worry for him. He was bruised and cut and his whole body language spoke of defeat. He didn't deserve chains. She watched as Sandy approached Ryan, putting his hand on his shoulder. Ryan barely looked up at him, nodding as Sandy pointed in her general direction. She wanted to catch his eye, to reassure him that she was there for him, but he wouldn't look back at her.

She barely heard his response of "not guilty" when the judge requested a plea. She felt sick when the DA started to describe Ryan and the crime – bar fight over a girl, refused to cooperate with the police, rich family who could easily pay bail. Sandy defended Ryan's character – his 4.0 GPA, his involvement with school and soccer – and the judge fell in the middle of the DA's request for no bail and Sandy's request that Ryan be released on his own recognizant. Not really the middle, since the bail was set quite high, but not high enough that she was worried about it. She hurried over to the clerk, because Sandy said they can be stringent and refuse the bail if it wasn't paid immediately. Then they'd have to pay it at the jail, and it would take longer to get Ryan released. She saw Sandy slip out of the courtroom, hoping to find Ryan again.

* * *

Sandy was on his cell phone when a guard brought Ryan back to the meeting room. 

"Kirsten got your bail paid," Sandy said as he hung up the phone. He sat down at the table as Ryan stretched his arms out. "The paperwork should all be in place by the time you get back, and I'll be waiting for you when they release you."

Ryan tried to protest. "I can't let you guys do that for me. It's too much."

"Hey, don't worry about it. Unless you're planning to run, it shouldn't be a problem."

But to Ryan, it wasn't a matter of them getting the money back or not; it was something they shouldn't have to be doing. Not that he wasn't grateful, and not that he wanted to spend one more minute in a cell, but he figured he could survive for a few more days until the meeting with the DA where Sandy said they could probably get the charges dropped.

He felt Sandy's hand on his shoulder. When he looked up, Sandy was staring at him earnestly. "We're going to work things out. We're here for you. And we couldn't imagine leaving you in jail when you don't have to be. Trust us."

Ryan nodded. "Thank you."

Sandy smiled at him. "Don't mention it, kid."

Sandy got Ryan to tell him about his night again while they waited for the arraignments to be completed. Sandy had taken plenty of notes by the time the guard came to take Ryan back to jail. Ryan stood up to endure the humiliation of the cuffs and shackles one more time. He concentrated on the guard's movements, watching as the cold metal encircled his wrists, as his ankles were tethered together to restrict his movements. He didn't want to see Sandy's face; he didn't want to see his own embarrassment reflected in his eyes.

But when he looked up, Sandy was staring steadily at him and he didn't see embarrassment. He saw understanding, and maybe a bit of hope. "I'll be right behind you. Okay, kid?"

Ryan waved back at him the best he could as he shuffled off with the guard.

TBC


	5. Home and School

**Author's note:** Thanks to SilverWeaver and Maudgonne for the betas, even when they are both busy and stressed from work. They make this story so much better.

* * *

When he got back to the jail, Ryan was sorted out with the other prisoners whose bail had been posted. He was put in a little room where he changed back into his regular clothes, and then he signed for his personal effects. Then a guard escorted him to the door to the lobby, where he knew Sandy would be waiting for him on the other side. 

He hesitated before pushing through the door. It was hard enough having to see Sandy as his lawyer. Now he was his guardian and family, and it would eventually mean having to see Seth and Kirsten.

* * *

When Sandy saw Ryan walk out of the doors, he was relieved to see him in street clothes again. It took the urgency away. It wasn't that Sandy didn't understand the urgency was still there, or didn't realize there was a lot of work to do before they met with the DA, but to have Ryan out of jail lifted a huge worry. 

He put his arm around Ryan's shoulders. "Ready to go home?"

In the car, the silence was palpable. Sandy kept glancing over at Ryan, who was resolutely staring out the window, drumming his fingers on his leg. Finally Sandy tried to break the tension. "Ryan…"

"Can we not – right now?"

Sandy could hear the pleading in his voice, but if they didn't do this now, it might never be done. "Ryan…"

"I'm just – really tired. I told you everything you wanted to hear as my lawyer. I just don't know if I have the energy right now."

"You know what? We're all tired. No one got a whole lot of sleep last night. And Kirsten and Seth are going to be waiting for you when you get home. You can't shut us out."

"That's not what I'm doing."

"Ryan, I can see the walls going up already. We're family. We're here to help you."

"How? I can't even process that fact that someone is dead because of me. How can you? How can they?"

"Because we have to. Because we love you."

Ryan leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "It's all just such a mess."

Sandy couldn't really argue with that. "A mess we're going to fix."

* * *

Kirsten was in the kitchen when she heard the car doors slam outside. She entered the living room in time to see Seth come bounding down the stairs as Ryan and Sandy walked into the house. 

"It's about time you guys got back." Seth pulled Ryan into a hug, and Kirsten noticed Ryan wince from the embrace. "What the hell happened?"

Ryan backed away from Seth, running his hand through his hair. He glanced over at Sandy, then back over at Seth, avoiding looking at Kirsten. "I don't know, really."

Kirsten tried to keep her hug gentle. "How're you doing, sweetie?"

"I've been better." Ryan gave her a half smile, finally bringing his eyes to meet hers, raising his eyebrows.

"Are you hungry? Tired? Do you want read some comics? Play some PlayStation?" Seth looked at him expectantly. She saw Sandy smiling at Seth's ability to overlook the obvious and try to get back to normal.

"I think I just want to go to the pool house first."

Sandy looked at him disapprovingly. "Ryan…"

"I want to have a hot shower, Sandy. I want to change my clothes. Is that okay?"

"That's fine, Ryan. It'll be supper soon though, so come in when you're done."

Ryan gave Sandy a curt nod before heading to his room.

Kirsten looked at Sandy. "What was that?"

"Yeah, Dad. The guy just got out of jail and you're acting like a warden."

"Seth! I'm not… I'm just trying to keep him connected. We've got to make sure he doesn't pull away."

"Is he going to prison, Dad?" Seth's eyes looked as scared as Kirsten felt and they both needed Sandy to explain everything that happened.

"I don't know, Seth. I'm going to do my best to prevent it, but it depends on the DA."

"Did he really kill someone?"

"The guy he was fighting with died as a result of the fight, yes." He looked at his wife and son. "Let's sit down, and I'll tell you what I know."

* * *

Ryan walked into the pool house and looked around. He couldn't believe how much his life had changed since he had last been here, in less than twenty-four hours. 

He ran his hand along the bar as he walked to the bathroom. As he shed his clothes, he dropped them straight into the trash. He never wanted to wear them again, even if Rosa could get the bloodstains out. Then he marveled at the fact that he could so easily throw away clothes without a thought and wondered when that had happened.

He stood in front of the bathroom mirror, fully examining his injuries for the first time. He brought his fingers to his cheek, wincing as he touched the tender scab. The guy must have been wearing a ring, to leave such a gash.

His hands moved to the bruises around his neck. He placed his thumbs on the thumb-shaped bruises, and shivered as he remembered the feeling of not being able to breathe. He wondered if the guy would've stopped, if he hadn't kicked him away. After he passed out? Not till he died?

He skimmed his fingers over the bruises on his torso. Blue, deep purple, black. Ugly, angry bruises.

He turned the water on in the shower, as hot as he could stand it. There was a possibility he wouldn't be having leisurely, hot showers in the future and he wanted to savor each one.

When he got out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and walked into the main room to get some fresh clothes. He was greeted by Seth, sitting in one of the wicker chairs. "Holy bruises, Ryan."

Ryan quickly grabbed a shirt from his shelves and pulled it over his head. Seth walked over to where Ryan was standing. "There's actual handprints on your neck." He reached his hand out as if to touch them, but Ryan swatted his hand away.

"I know. What are you doing out here?"

"Well, Mom's worried that you didn't get any lunch, where the arraignment was at noon, Dad's worried you won't come in for supper, and I'm just worried."

"There's no point worrying." Ryan turned and walked back into the bathroom with his pants. When he came back out, Seth was still there. At least when he got to prison, he'd be used to having no privacy or time to himself. It'd be just like living with the Cohens. Maybe if he told himself that enough, he might believe it.

"Come inside. Dad's gone for take-out, so you have to come in soon anyway."

Ryan didn't bother arguing. He just followed Seth into the house.

They were well into their videogame by the time Sandy arrived home with supper. Kirsten appeared then, for the first time since Ryan came inside with Seth. They sat down at the table, passing the containers back and forth, filling their plates. There was an uncomfortable silence, as no one knew exactly what to say. Everyday things seemed too inconsequential to talk about, but the events of the night before seemed too big.

Not able to handle the silence any longer, Seth's mouth took over. "So, Ryan, it's too bad you missed Galactic Crush last night."

Ryan looked up from his plate.

"Seth." Kirsten's tone implied that he should stop his train of thought.

"I'm just saying, they were really good, what I heard. And we went for Ryan's birthday, and then he didn't get to hear them. I mean, I think that sucks."

"Yeah, 'cause that's what sucks about last night, that I missed seeing the band." Ryan was glaring at Seth, and could feel the heat rising in his neck and on the tips of his ears. "A guy is dead and I'm probably going to prison, but the tragedy is that I didn't hear some music."

"I didn't mean…" Seth started.

"Ryan."

He could hear Kirsten asking him to calm down, to give Seth the benefit of the doubt, but he wasn't feeling that gracious yet. He picked up his napkin and threw it on the table. "I can't do this right now. I can't pretend everything is normal." He pushed his chair back and went to the pool house.

* * *

Kirsten knocked on the pool house door, but got no answer. "Ryan?" 

"I don't really feel like talking, Kirsten."

She opened the door and walked in. Ryan was lying on his bed and turned over to see her.

"I brought you a sandwich."

"I'm not really hungry."

Kirsten set the plate on his bedside table and sat on the bed beside him. "What have you eaten today?"

Ryan shrugged.

"You've got to eat, Ryan. Raise your blood sugar a little – it'll make things seem not so bad."

"Things are so bad. How can you and Seth act like nothing happened?"

"It's not like nothing happened – but life can't stop either. You still have to eat and go to school – you're still a part of this family."

"School?" Ryan had forgotten about school. He had been focusing on how awful things were just seeing the Cohens. He forgot about facing the Newport masses.

"Besides the fact that not going isn't an option, it's also going to be important in your case. You can't start skipping now."

Ryan rolled over onto his back and threw his arm over his eyes. "This sucks in every way imaginable."

"Yes, it does." She squeezed his arm and then stood up. "So eat your sandwich and finish your homework."

* * *

Sandy dropped the boys off at school in the morning, with plans to return later in the day to talk to Dr Kim about getting copies of Ryan's school records, as back-up evidence. 

Ryan was guarded; though no one knew what had happened, it was obvious just looking at him that something had happened. Luckily, his reputation for fighting was still around even though he hadn't been in a fistfight in months, and so everyone just assumed it was normal for him, and he was left alone for the most part.

Ten minutes into second period, the secretary broke into class, instructing Mr. Schmidt to send Ryan to the office, with his books. When he got there, he was sent straight in to Dr Kim's office, where she showed him to a wooden chair. Ryan knew from experience that the wooden chair meant he was in trouble.

"You were arrested this weekend?" Dr. Kim started right in, without any pleasantries.

"Yeah. Did Sandy talk to you? He said he was coming by…"

"No. He's on his way though. The police sent a copy of your arrest report."

Ryan simply nodded.

"You can wait here until he gets here." And with that, Dr. Kim got up and left her office. Ryan dropped his head to his hands, elbows resting on his knees. She seemed pretty upset, and he figured that could lead to no good. Things just seemed to be going from bad to worse, though the probability of going to prison was pretty much the worst.

He was in the office by himself for what seemed an eternity. The chair was none too comfortable, but he didn't want to chance getting up and walking around in case Dr. Kim came back and thought he was snooping around her office.

* * *

Sandy was surprised to find Ryan in Dr. Kim's office when he arrived. "You're not in class, Ryan?" 

"No." Dr. Kim entered just behind him. "We can't have an accused murderer attending class at Harbor."

"I was under the impression that in this country, people were innocent until proven guilty. Ryan was charged, but not convicted. And hopefully won't be, once we meet with the DA tomorrow."

"Were you going to inform me of this?" Dr. Kim indicated the arrest report.

"I knew you'd be receiving a copy today," Sandy said. "And I had planned to stop by later."

"Well, I have no choice but to suspend Mr. Atwood, until the charges are dropped."

"You can't do that! He's a senior. He needs to maintain his grade point average to keep his scholarship in the fall. If you suspend him, he'll lose it."

"Unfortunately, that's not my concern, Mr. Cohen. My concern is the welfare of the children the parents of Newport put in my care. And there would be a lot of upset parents if they found out Mr. Atwood were still at the school. It's the only course of action available to me."

Sandy glanced over at Ryan, who was simply staring at the floor, not seeming to care one way or the other. It was such a change from the boy who fought with Dr Kim to be allowed in when he first started. "Can he at least keep up with his work from home, if Seth gets his assignments?"

"Normally a suspension doesn't allow for making up the work, but this is a different case, so I'll allow it. It will be up to the individual teachers to decide what they want to do about tests. If they feel he can't take them from home, he'll have to take a zero on them."

"It should only be for a couple of days, anyways."

"You don't know that, Sandy."

Sandy wasn't sure he heard Ryan speak, he'd said it so quietly. "No, I don't. You're right." He turned back to Dr Kim. "I'll need a copy of Ryan's records for the court."

"Of course. I'll get the secretary to run you off a copy before you leave."

Sandy stood up. "Come on, Ryan. I'll run you home. Thank you so much for your time, Dr Kim." Sandy couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

* * *

Kirsten and Sandy were cleaning up after supper. "I'm worried about Ryan, Sandy." 

He handed her the plates from table. "He'll be able to keep up with his classes from home. He's a bright kid."

"That's not what I meant." She took the glasses from him and loaded them into the dishwasher. "He's barely speaking even when spoken to, he just pushed his food around his plate tonight, and he was by himself in the pool house all day."

"He's just having a hard time dealing with this. Tomorrow, we'll meet with the DA and get it all straightened out. Then he'll be back to school and things will get better."

"What if the DA doesn't agree?" Kirsten handed him a dishcloth to wipe the table off. "What if he only offers a shortened sentence?"

Sandy stopped mid-wipe and shook his head. "I can't take a deal that results in jail or prison for him. We'll take it to trial if we have to."

She wrapped her arms around herself. "I don't know if he can handle a trial, Sandy."

"We've got to fight for him, Kirsten." He walked over and put his arms around her. "If he goes to jail, we'll probably lose him forever. He'll push us away. One year or twenty years won't make a difference."

TBC


	6. The DA's Deal

Author's Notes: The OCSFC sort of distracted me for a while - both writing and organizing. But this story is back again and it certainly shouldn't be as long between chapters again. Much thanks goes out to maudgonne for the extremely quick beta once I got it to her.

* * *

Sandy and Ryan arrived at the DA's office and were shown into a conference room. They sat quietly waiting for the DA to arrive. Sandy was thinking about his chances of getting the charges dropped today. He'd dealt with Rick Santoro before – Rick was fair, most of the time, but he could be tough and take a hard line if he got it into his head.

He had no idea what Ryan was thinking.

The DA came in and set his briefcase on the table. "So, what are you thinking, Sandy?"

"Well, Rick, I'm thinking it's self-defense and you guys should drop all the charges."

Rick sat down and shook his head. "Sandy, come on. Self-defense? Your client said nothing to the police about being attacked. It was a fight over a girl that went too far. They were both battered and bruised. They were seen shoving each other in the club. In fact, the victim's girlfriend…" He stopped to search through some papers, "… Amanda Jenkins, says your client was being aggressive towards her, which is why the victim stepped in in the first place. I'm willing to go aggravated assault, one to two."

Sandy turned to Ryan. "Is that what happened in the club?"

"She's lying," Ryan said without looking up from the table.

Rick held up the paper. "I've got her sworn statement right here."

"That's not what happened." Ryan shook his head, picking at a scab on his knuckle. "She came up to me. We were just talking when Jake came over. She said they were broken up and he shoved me."

"And then you shoved him back," Rick said.

Ryan nodded. "Then he punched me and we got kicked out."

"And the fight continued outside."

Ryan nodded again.

"Ryan," Sandy said. "Fill in the holes."

"They kicked us out, I sat on the curb to wait for Seth, and he pulled me up and pushed me into the alley. Then the fight continued."

"Ryan, did you say anything to each other?" Sandy hated prompting him but he had to tell the whole story.

Ryan shrugged. "I said we didn't have to fight, he said we did, so we did."

"Sandy, I can't go self-defense on this. There's too much evidence to go forward. And it's not like your client is a typical Newport kid who just got in over his head."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"We've got a file on him. His father's in prison, his brother's in prison. He's not exactly sheltered."

"You can't use that. A judge would never let a jury hear that." Sandy couldn't believe Rick was even bringing it up.

"No, but your client never claimed self-defense until after he talked to you. There's no evidence to back up his story. He had plenty of opportunities to tell the police and he never mentioned that he was a victim in it all. He told the police himself that the fight was over a girl. From where we stand, it looks like manslaughter. Aggravated assault is a gift, one to two years. Take it or leave it."

"Leave it," Sandy said. Ryan's head whipped up and looked at him.

"I'll leave it on the table. You might need to talk to your client about it, Sandy. Let me know."

Once the DA left the room, Ryan turned to Sandy. "Why didn't you take the deal?"

"Because I don't want you to go to jail. Because you're not guilty."

Ryan looked back at his hands. "I killed a man."

"Ryan, look at me." Sandy waited until Ryan slowly turned his head towards him. "A man died, yes. But he was trying to kill you first and you don't deserve to go to jail because of it. What happened wasn't your fault. Maybe we can't convince the DA right now, but next we'll try to convince a judge. And if we can't convince the judge, then we'll convince a jury."

"And if we don't convince a jury?"

"We'll deal with it if it comes to that."

"Why do you get to make all the decisions?"

"Because I don't want to see you throw your life away."

"Maybe this is my life."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, maybe the DA is right. My father, my brother. Why fight it? It's inevitable."

"Ryan, you are not your father or your brother. You are better than that."

"Then why am I here, right where they were?"

Sandy didn't know what to say to that, because he couldn't explain it. No matter how hard he tried, Ryan just couldn't seem to avoid the bad stuff.

"What if I want to take the deal?"

"As your lawyer, I think it's a bad idea. I really think you can get off."

Ryan was back to staring at the table. "What if I don't want you as my lawyer?"

Sandy was taken aback by this admission. He tried to push his personal feeling aside. "Okay. I can try to find someone else, if that's what you want. But I can't promise you your next lawyer will tell you what you want to hear either."

Ryan just nodded.

"All right then. I'll take you home now. Maybe we'll stop for lunch on the way?"

Ryan shrugged.

"I'll take that as a yes." Sandy put his arm around Ryan's shoulders as they walked down the hall, out of the building.

* * *

Ryan was making supper when Kirsten and Sandy came home that evening.

"You don't need to do that, Ryan," Kirsten said.

He looked up from chopping green peppers and shrugged. "I've got nothing else to do. I thought I'd try be a little useful."

Sandy walked over beside Ryan. "I made some calls today." He pulled out a business card and held it out to Ryan. "The best defense attorney available – next to me, of course."

"I'm sorry." Ryan wiped his hands on a towel and took the card. "I shouldn't have… I didn't mean…"

"Don't worry about it. I thought about what you said and you're right. I'm too close to it to be objective. But don't think you can rid of me that easily. I'll still be beside you every step of the way. We'll just let Barry take the lead. And we've got a meeting with him tomorrow."

* * *

When Ryan and Sandy arrived at Barry's office, Ryan wasn't sure what to expect. It was a small office and he saw only Barry's name on the door. The receptionist told them to go right in and they found Barry behind his desk, files piled everywhere. Ryan looked around apprehensively.

"Sandy, how you doing?" Barry stood up to shake Sandy's hand. He was a big, burly guy whose hand engulfed Sandy's. "You must be Ryan." He held his hand out and Ryan shook it, still eying him warily. "The office is a little small, I know. I do a lot of pro bono work and I like to keep my overhead low. But don't worry – I'm not letting Sandy off that easily." Barry smiled at Ryan, who just gave him a half smile back.

They sat down in the chairs opposite Barry and Sandy leaned over towards him. "Barry and I went to Berkeley together."

Ryan nodded.

"But don't think that means I won't be objective," Barry said. "I've been disagreeing with Sandy since we met. So, he says you want to take the plea the DA offered, but he thinks you can do better. Right?"

Ryan nodded.

"Not much of a talker, huh? How do you survive in Sandy's house? No wonder he let you stay." Barry smiled at him as if trying to share the joke. When Ryan didn't smile back, he got down to business. "Okay, I read over the file Sandy sent me, and I tend to agree with him. But I've got a couple of questions for you."

Ryan looked at Sandy. He wasn't sure he liked this gregarious man, wasn't sure he trusted him. Sandy shrugged. "You can at least listen to his questions before you make up your mind."

Ryan slouched in the chair, and shrugged at Barry.

"Most people I represent, even when they're guilty, are professing their innocence to anyone who will listen. You're not, and you look innocent, if the story you told Sandy is true. Is there something you're not telling us?"

"No." Ryan shifted in his chair. He resented this guy who didn't know him, accusing him of lying.

"You went willingly into the alley? You were looking to fight this guy?"

"No." He straightened up. "He pushed me in. I didn't want to fight him."

"The girlfriend's telling the truth, then? You were in her space, not leaving her alone. Jake was just protecting her in the club?"

"No, she's lying. She came up to me." Ryan didn't like the way this guy grilling him, like he didn't believe him.

"He wasn't hurting you when you kicked him. You kicked him just for the hell of it?"

"He was choking me. I couldn't breathe." He leaned forward and pointed at his neck. "I've still got the bruises."

Barry nodded. "So why are you willing to argue with me about it, but want to give up with the DA?"

"What?" Ryan could hear Sandy trying to stifle his laughter and not doing a very good job of it. He resisted the urge to glare at Sandy, saving it instead for Barry.

"I just gave you the same arguments the DA is using to press forward with the charges. You're willing to defend yourself to me. Why not the DA?"

Ryan leaned back into his chair again. "I don't know. It's just easier."

"It's easier to go to jail than to fight for the truth?"

Ryan didn't want to look at Barry, didn't want to admit that he was right. "Sometimes."

"Look, Ryan. Your case looks worth the fight on paper. Sandy tells me you're worth the fight. But I don't have a case if my client isn't on board with it. I can't fight unless you want to fight. It's no use if you're going to side with the DA."

Sandy joined in. "Come on, kid. Help us fight for you."

Ryan wondered why Sandy was fighting so hard. Everything would just be easier if he took the plea. The Cohens wouldn't have to worry about him anymore; he wouldn't have to worry about messing up anymore. His life would go back to how it always should have been. And he killed the guy. Shouldn't he go to jail for that? He looked at the earnest faces of Sandy and Barry. What had he done to deserve having these people want to fight for him and save him? He shrugged. "Okay."

"You have to be a willing participant, Ryan. You can't just be along for the ride."

"I said okay."

Barry studied him intently for a few seconds. "Okay. The first thing will be filing a Motion for Dismissal with the judge at the Preliminary Hearing on Monday." He pulled out a piece of paper from a file. "Oh." His face dropped.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing major. We just drew Judge Harnett for the Preliminary Hearing."

"Oh." Sandy turned to Ryan. "Judge Harnett is known for being tough on defendants. It just means he likely won't grant our motion."

"So what's the point then?"

"The point," Barry said, "is to let the prosecution know we plan to fight them. If our motion is denied, the next step will be the Grand Jury. But we have no control over that, and we can pretty much assume the DA will get his indictment. And then we'll start preparing for trial."

"And Barry will write one hell of a motion, so there's always the chance this will all be over by Monday," Sandy said.

"But don't get your hopes up too high for Monday," Barry said. "I'm good, but I don't know if I'm that good."

TBC


	7. The Consults

**Author's note:** Many thanks to Maudgonne and SilverWeaver, for helping me improve this chapter. They both really stuck up for Seth, and he needed it. Also, I'm not a lawyer, though I have watched lots of Law and Order, so thanks to StoryMom for all her legal expertise. Anything I get wrong is because I ignored her. I'm also not a psychiatrist. It seems as though my ambitions were lofty for this story. If it's wrong, I'm sorry.

* * *

The preliminary hearing went as Barry had anticipated, much to Sandy's disappointment. Judge Harnett listened to their motion, but predictably decided that the prosecution had enough evidence to press forward. Two days later, the DA got his indictment from the Grand Jury, and the date for Ryan's trial was set. 

Soon after, Sandy and Ryan met with Barry at his office to start planning their strategy.

"So we're arguing self-defense, which is an affirmative defense," Barry said. "That means we all agree on the facts of the case – that you and Jake fought in the alley and the fight resulted in Jake's death. We just have to prove that you didn't want to be fighting and were only protecting yourself."

Ryan nodded.

"The prosecution is claiming that you went into the alley willingly, and wanted to finish what you two started in the club."

Ryan nodded again. He knew all this.

"It all comes down to state of mind. The prosecution wants you to meet with a Dr. Kormac on Thursday for their psych consult."

This caught Ryan's attention. He sat up straighter in his chair. "For their what?"

"Their psych consult. He'll want to talk to you about what you were feeling that night."

Ryan glared at Sandy. "You never said anything about having to talk to a psychiatrist."

"I thought you knew that," Sandy said.

"How would I know that?" Ryan closed his eyes, trying to process the latest development. He tried his hardest not to think about that night, even though the scene replayed itself in his mind whenever he wasn't actively pushing it away. "Do I have to?"

"Yeah, you do." Barry nodded. "It's what our defense is based on."

His defense was based on how he was feeling that night. He hadn't been feeling anything that night. It just happened. He couldn't have stopped it. And he didn't want to talk about it. "Can we just say forget it and take the deal?"

Sandy shook his head. "There's no deal now. It's this or you plead guilty."

Ryan was feeling like he was backed into the alley again, being forced to do something he didn't want to do and unable to stop everything as it came barreling towards him. "Fine."

He could feel Barry staring at him. "Ryan, this defense doesn't work unless you're a willing participant. You have to believe it was self-defense."

Ryan glared at Barry. "I said 'fine'. I'll do what needs to be done."

"Yeah, I heard you." Barry shuffled some papers. He raised his eyebrows at Sandy.

"You might as well continue, get everything out in the open," Sandy said.

"Okay," Barry said. "So if they're going to put an expert psychiatrist on the stand regarding your state of mind, we're going to need one too."

Ryan pursed his lips and nodded. "Great." Two psychiatrists. That meant lots of talking. He didn't like talking in the first place, and he hated talking about himself even more. "Anything else?"

Barry looked at Sandy. "Not right now, I guess."

Ryan stood up and walked out the door. Sandy didn't follow him, so he assumed they were discussing him. He paced the small foyer as he waited for Sandy to come out. He figured he should get used to people discussing him, because that was all that was going to happen in the next few weeks. It was bad enough thinking he would have to listen to the whole night be dissected and examined in detail at the trial. Now _he_ was what was going to be dissected and examined in detail.

Finally, Sandy came out of Barry's office. "Ready to go?"

He reached out his arm as if to put it around Ryan's shoulders, but Ryan moved out of the way, keeping as much distance as he could. "Whatever you say." He pushed out the door, staying two steps ahead of Sandy all the way to the car.

* * *

Kirsten was in the kitchen when they got home. "Hey, guys, how was the meeting?" 

Ryan just walked right through the kitchen, slamming the door behind him on his way to the pool house.

"Things didn't go well?"

"That's an understatement," Sandy said. "He didn't say two words to me the whole way home."

Seth trailed into the kitchen, grabbing a juice out of the fridge. "Oh, good, you guys are home. Ryan in the pool house? I need to talk to him."

As Seth headed for the door, Sandy tried to stop him. "Maybe leave him alone for a bit, Seth. He's not in the best of moods."

"I'll cheer him up."

Seth walked into the pool house to find Ryan sitting by the windows, doing bicep curls with his weights. "Hey, buddy, I've been looking for you. Wait until you hear about…"

Ryan cut him off. "I'm really not in the mood, Seth."

"Come on, Ryan." Seth plopped on the bed. "You never want to hang out any more. I'm here to cheer you up, take your mind off things. I had an awesome day."

"And I didn't, Seth. I just want to be alone right now. I need to be alone right now."

"What are you, Greta Garbo now?" Seth put the back of his hand across his forehead and affected his best German accent. "'I vant to be alone.'" Seth was disappointed to not get even a tiny reaction out of Ryan. "Come on, man. You never want to hang out anymore."

Ryan switched the weights to his other arm, not looking up at Seth. "I've just got a lot to think about right now, Seth."

"Look, I know this whole legal thing is rough, but you can't spend all your time feeling sorry for yourself. Dad's working hard on this – he won't let you go to jail." When Ryan continued to ignore him, he pushed himself up off the bed. "Okay. Have fun brooding."

Seth went up to his room and lay on his bed, thinking about Ryan. He knew he was right – there was no way his dad was going to let Ryan go to jail. He just didn't know how to get that through to Ryan.

* * *

After Seth left, Ryan set the weights down. He'd been doing fine, pushing things out of his mind while he worked out, but Seth had to disrupt him, bringing everything crashing back. He wasn't feeling sorry for himself. He was the last person in a long list of people to feel sorry for. 

He felt sorry for Kirsten, who had to face the Newpsies and listen to their snide remarks about how she had a killer living in her pool house. He felt sorry for Sandy, who was giving up time and money to attend meetings, write motions, argue at hearings. He felt sorry for Seth because he didn't feel like sitting around hearing about his day at school. He didn't want to hear what his life should be like now. He felt sorry for Jake, who was dead, who had probably had a pretty crappy life to make him that angry. He felt sorry for Jake's family and friends. Seth just didn't understand. There were so many other people Ryan had to feel sorry for. He didn't even make the list. And all these people would be better off and happier if he just pled guilty and went to jail.

* * *

Ryan waited for Dr. Kormac in an interrogation room at the police station, jiggling his leg, half not wanting to do this and half just wanting to get it over with. Sandy had some actual work to do at his office so Kirsten had dropped him for his appointment, giving him the equivalent of a pep talk on the way. "Just tell the truth, don't be nervous, don't leave anything out. Tell him what happened and you'll do fine." Barry had met him at the station, continuing where Kirsten had left off. He was going to be observing the interview, along with the DA, though neither was allowed to interrupt. Barry had just left the room, and Dr. Kormac was expected momentarily. 

When the doctor entered the room carrying a stack of files, Ryan eyed him warily. He was a slight man who looked like he'd never been near a street fight and didn't know the first thing about them. Ryan wondered how this guy could evaluate his thought processes.

"Ryan Atwood, right?" He flipped through a file as Ryan nodded. "Let's see … bar fight, alleged self-defense. Ready to get started?"

Ryan shrugged.

"Why don't you tell me what happened?"

Ryan started the story, recounting the incidents in the line-up and by the bar, and the altercation that got them kicked out.

"When he pushed you, did it make you mad?"

"I wasn't happy with him, no. I was just talking to the girl, she said they were broken up - of course I was going to be mad."

"And when he punched you, were you going to punch him back, before the bouncers intercepted?"

"Yeah." That just seemed like a stupid question.

"So when you got outside, you were still angry with him."

Ryan thought about the question. He hadn't been planning on fighting, but he was certainly still angry. "I guess, yeah."

"And you went into the alley knowing it would result in a fight?"

Again with the stupid questions. "I knew we weren't going in there to talk."

Dr. Kormac made a note in the file. "What were you feeling before you were attacked?"

"I wasn't attacked."

"I thought you had to defend yourself from him."

"Yeah, but I wasn't attacked."

The doctor wrote something else down in his file. "Okay, how were you feeling when you were fighting?"

"I don't know. Just … how I usually feel during a fight."

"Scared?"

"No."

"Excited?"

"No, not excited."

"What then?"

Ryan didn't know how to explain it to this guy who didn't look like he understood was fighting was about. He looked like he'd get a nosebleed just thinking about fighting. "Just… ready. In the moment."

"Not scared."

"No."

"Even though he was bigger and stronger."

Ryan didn't see the point being scared, or what the guy's size mattered. Being scared wouldn't have stopped it. "No."

"What about when he was supposedly choking you? Were you scared he was going to kill you?"

This guy didn't seem to understand. "I wasn't feeling anything. I was just fighting."

"Why'd you kick him? Was it just part of the fight?"

"Yeah, it was part of the fight. What else would it have been? I wanted him to stop choking me. To get him away."

Dr. Kormac wrote a bit more in his file, and then looked over the notes he took and nodded. "All right, Ryan. I think that's all I need for now. Thank you."

Ryan shrugged and then waited for the doctor to leave the room before he got up to find Barry.

* * *

Sandy was waiting in Barry's office when Ryan and Barry arrived from the psych consult. Barry stormed through the reception area, throwing open his office door and slamming his briefcase on his desk. Ryan came behind, head down, hands in his pockets. 

Sandy followed Barry into the office, where Barry was pacing the length of the office. Finally, he stopped and faced Ryan, who had slouched into a chair. "What was that?"

Ryan didn't respond. He continued staring at the floor, not meeting Barry's eyes.

Sandy had seen Barry incensed at injustices of the world, and he'd seen him get worked while debating issues over beers in bar, but he'd never seen his friend this upset about anything before. Barry paced some more before he came to a full stop again in front of Ryan. "Why have we been working to keep you out of jail, when it's obvious you either don't care or actually want to go to jail. Is that it? Do you want to go to jail?"

"No, I don't want to go to jail."

"Then I don't get it. You tell the DA one thing and you tell us another. So. You wanted to hit him once you got outside the bar, you didn't think he attacked you, you weren't afraid of him, and you didn't think he was going to choke you do death."

"That's not what I said."

Sandy thought Barry was going to burst a blood vessel. "That's exactly what you said. I was watching, remember? So which story is true? The one where he attacked you, or the one where you were both looking for a fight that night?"

"I answered his questions truthfully, like you guys said."

"So you wanted to fight him in the alley?"

"No. I told you that. I was waiting for Seth to come out."

"Then he attacked you?"

"I wasn't attacked.

"Ryan, if you didn't want to fight him, how can you say you weren't attacked?"

"Because I wasn't. I knew he was coming at me and I was ready for him."

Barry slumped into his chair and dropped his head into his hands, looking totally defeated. Finally, he looked up at Sandy. "What do we do with this?"

* * *

Ryan was lying outside by the pool when Seth got home from school. His skin was still glistening with water from the swim he'd just finished, and his skin was a nice golden brown. 

"Man, this is the life you have," Seth said, dropping into the chaise lounge chair beside him. "Must be nice. School was brutal today."

Ryan didn't react to his presence at all – didn't turn his head, didn't open his eyes, nothing. Seth carried on. "First, we had a pop quiz in English, which I wasn't ready for at all. I think I answered, like, one out of the ten questions. Okay, maybe it was three, but it was sad. Ms. Jackson didn't look pleased when she picked up the papers. I really need to read Wuthering Heights, I know, but it's just so… 'Oh Heathcliff! Oh Catherine!' God. Remember the good old days of children attacking each other on a deserted island? Why can't we read more of that?"

Seth watched Ryan for any sign that he was paying attention. "And then today was supposed to be tuna melts for lunch, but by the time I got there, they were all out. Who's eating all the tuna melts, Ryan? Is it too much to ask that my favorite food be available when I want it?

"But then, the worst? Ms. Meadows assigned presentations for next week. We drew names, and of course, I drew the first slot. I hate presentations, Ryan. Hate them. And to go first? Mine's going to be lame, and then all the little suck-ups will come up with bigger and better presentations and mine will look piddling next to theirs, and I'll get a terrible grade and then USC will revoke its acceptance and my life will be over. You are so lucky you don't have to go to school and deal with all the crap. You get to do all the work from the comfort of home and not put up with any of it."

All of a sudden, Ryan stood up and walked away, without saying a word to Seth.

"Hey, Ryan, where are you going?"

Ryan stopped and cocked his head to the side, the first sign that he had heard Seth at all. He turned around slowly, and Seth could see his jaw was set. He took a deep breath and blew it out. "I'm walking away before the urge to punch you overpowers me." He turned back around and walked into the pool house, slamming the door behind him.

Seth sat there for a few minutes before getting up and following Ryan into the pool house. He knew the trial was stressful, but his dad was going to take care of everything, and once the trial was over, everything would be back to normal. So why not take advantage of the fact that he didn't need to be in school and deal with all the little details? He knocked on the door, and then opened it without waiting for a response. Ryan already had his jeans on and was pulling a t-shirt over his head.

"Go away, Seth. The urge hasn't left me yet."

"Look, I'm sorry, man. But you don't need to be so pissed off."

"Do you think this is fun for me, everyday? Do you forget the reason I'm not allowed to set foot in Harbor?" He took a breath, trying to calm down. "Seth, I killed a man, and I am going to go to prison for a very long time. This isn't fun and games."

Seth didn't understand why Ryan was so concerned. "It's self-defense, and Dad's gonna get you off."

Ryan grabbed a stress ball off the bar and started squeezing it. "Your dad's not my lawyer and I'm not going to get off. Barry's pretty much given up and I don't blame him. The sooner you deal with it, the better. I'm going to prison, Seth." He looked at him straight in the eye. "I am."

Seth shook his head. "No. No, you're not. It wasn't your fault."

"Grow up, Seth. The real world doesn't work like that. The sooner you learn that, the better off you'll be."

"You can't give up."

"I'm not giving up. I'm being realistic." He sat down at his desk, steadying himself. Finally he looked back up. "Did you bring home my trig assignment?"

Seth was incredulous. "You're going to do homework?"

"What else can I do?"

* * *

Kirsten came home from a late night at the office to find Sandy already in bed, reading over some papers. 

"How'd Ryan's psych consult go today?"

Sandy rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "Not great."

"What happened?"

"Well, I haven't seen the tape yet, but apparently, he told a completely conflicting story to what he told me the first night. Barry wasn't pleased. But, the good news is that in trying to figure out what's going on, I think I figured out what's going on."

Kirsten looked at him questioningly.

"He won't admit he was a victim. When he told me what happened, I knew what he was saying. But when he gets asked questions about it, it all depends on the question. Did he fight willingly? No. But was he attacked? No. Unfortunately, the psychiatrist today asked all the wrong questions."

"So what are you and Barry going to do?"

"We're going to send him to our expert and hope she can figure out what we can do with it."

* * *

Ryan walked into Dr. Patel's office. He stopped when he closed the door behind him, unsure of where to go. Dr. Patel stood, and motioned Ryan further in. "Come. Sit." She pointed out his options. "There's a chair, or the couch. And feel free to get up and walk around if you feel like it." 

He surveyed his choices. The doctor was sitting in a brown leather chair; he chose to sit in the matching one to her left. The couch was directly across from her and he preferred not having to look at her face-on.

"So you've got yourself into a bit of trouble, huh?" She opened a notepad, and Ryan nodded at her. Realizing she wasn't looking at him, he vocalized his agreement. "Yeah, you could say that."

Dr. Patel smiled. "Talking out loud is always a good thing. I'm voice recording this, so you'll have to try to remember that."

Ryan nodded again, but realized what he did. "Okay."

"Good. Now I've already seen the tape when you were talking to Dr. Kormac, so I'm not going to go into the specifics of the incident right now."

Ryan was surprised. He understood that the psychiatrists were going to be examining his state of mind at the time. Sandy told him it wasn't like going to a real psychiatrist. "I thought this was supposed to be about that night."

"You're right; it is. But what I want to do is just get a feel for who you are to better gauge your reaction to the fight. If you start to get uncomfortable with where we're going, just say and we'll change directions. Does that sound fair?"

"I guess." Ryan wasn't sure he trusted her yet.

"Let's start with the Cohens."

"Why?" Ryan couldn't figure out where she was going with this and he didn't know what she wanted him to say.

Dr. Patel smiled at his resistance. "I just thought we'd start with something you're comfortable with, try to ease you into it. Are you going to question my motives every step of the way?"

"Maybe. If they don't make sense."

She started writing in her notes, talking aloud as she did. "'Too smart for his own good.' All right, now we've got that figured out. How long have you been living with the Cohens?"

Ryan smiled in spite of himself. This doctor was sort of growing on him. Not that he'd admit it to anyone. "Just about two years."

"And do you like it with them?"

"Yeah. What's not to like? They took me in; gave me a home when I had nowhere to go."

"How'd you end up living with them?"

"I'm sure you have that in your files there somewhere."

"You're right; I do. But I want to hear you say how it happened."

Ryan briefly explained about his brother, and the stolen car, and how his mother threw him out. Then Dr. Patel asked him if his mother always threw him out when she was mad at him and Ryan realized they were talking about his mother now, and not the Cohens. It was a slick transition, and he wasn't exactly sure he liked the direction the conversation was heading.

But then she was asking him about the Cohens again, and how they handled discipline. Ryan had to smirk at that, because the Cohens hardly disciplined him at all. Sure, they grounded him every once in a while for lying, or missing curfew, but grounding wasn't that big of a deal and didn't happen very often. Of course, this led her to ask him what kind of discipline would be a big deal. His knee started bouncing as he explained how his father's belt came out whenever he or Trey acted up. In his head he added that they were lucky if it was just his belt.

Before he had to tell her about his mom's slaps and AJ's fists – not that he was going to tell her about his mom's slaps and AJ's fists – she changed the subject again.

"Tell me about school."

"What about it? I've been suspended indefinitely – until I'm not an accused murderer, I guess."

"Before that. Do you like school? What classes do you like?"

"School's all right; I do okay." He figured she had access to his school records and would know exactly how well he was doing. "The guidance counselor found out I had an interest in architecture and signed me up for courses that would help me get in to an architecture program."

"And did they? Help you get in, I mean."

"Yeah. I got a scholarship for the architecture program at USC in the fall. Not that it's going to do me a lot of good now."

"What about extracurricular activities?"

"Yeah. I played soccer. And Seth, my best friend, started a comic book club, so I joined that too."

"Did the Cohens attend any of your games?"

"Most of them. At least one of them was at every game, but usually all three." Ryan was a bit embarrassed to admit this.

"Are those similar interests you had in Chino?"

Ryan's knee started jiggling again. "I played soccer."

"Did your mom go to your games?"

"Nah. She was usually busy – working and stuff. You know how it is."

Dr. Patel nodded. "No comic book club in Chino?"

"Nah, that's Seth's thing. I was in the drama club for a year. But then I quit."

"Yeah? Why'd you quit?"

He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. "It was stupid."

Dr. Patel studied him for a moment and then wrote some notes. "Okay, Ryan, I think that's good for today. We may have to meet once or twice again before the trial, but I think I have a pretty good handle on everything."

Ryan was surprised and eyed her warily. He felt they hadn't really talked about anything and wondered how anything he said today could be used to help him in the trial. Not that it mattered. Barry and Sandy were still pretty mad at him for the last psych consult, and Barry didn't seem too hopeful in the long run. He'd probably be upset after he heard how fruitless this session had been.

"I'll be meeting with Barry this afternoon to tell him how things went," Dr. Patel said.

Ryan sighed as he left the office. He was glad he wouldn't be around for that meeting.

* * *

Barry was waiting in his office with Sandy when Dr. Patel arrived. She sat down and Barry cut right to the chase. "Tell me we have something to work with here." 

She smiled at him. "Relax, Barry. Things are definitely salvageable. We had a nice long chat, and I can tell you that he is in no way ready to deal with any of his issues."

"Can we defend him if he doesn't deal with them?" Sandy asked.

"Are you planning on putting him on the stand?"

"No," Barry said. "Not unless we absolutely have to. After his previous two performances with the DA's office, I'd like to avoid it at all costs."

"Then yes, he doesn't need to deal with anything now. But he won't be happy with what we say about him."

"What do we have to say?"

"That as a child of alcoholics and with his history of abuse, his perception of fighting and bullying is different from the average person's. He has a tendency to apologize for things that aren't his fault. He made a decision early in his life that he wasn't a victim, even when he was being attacked. So while he didn't want to fight Jake, once the fight started, he feels he was a willing participant because he can't perceive himself as weak."

"So when the cop asked him what the fight was about…"

"He responded with the superficial reason that he could see, not the underlying fact that Jake was looking for a fight and picking on someone half his size. And he didn't protest the arrest because why would he? He learned growing up that claiming it wasn't his fault would just make the punishment worse."

"And you learned all this from talking to him today?"

"No, I learned all this from reading his social services file, his statements to the police, and his psych interview. Today, I determined how aware he is of how his past affects his actions."

"And?"

"Not at all. I don't believe he's ready to talk about his past in any detail. Which means when we bring these things up in court, he's going to be furious because he won't believe it's true."

Sandy was fascinated to learn what made Ryan tick. "Are you saying he's suppressed his memories?"

"No. I'm saying he doesn't see how his past can affect how he behaves today, or that his behavior is out of the ordinary."

"Okay, so this is good, right?" Sandy was starting to feel hopeful again.

"It's good in the fact that we have a hook again," Barry said. "Now it'll be a matter of if we can convince the jury or not."

"Do we tell Ryan what we're going to be saying about him?" Barry and Sandy looked to Dr. Patel for her opinion.

"You'll have to tell him before I take the stand, or he'll be blindsided and furious, which won't look good to the jury. But I wouldn't tell him yet. I'd wait until just before I take the stand."

* * *

When Sandy got home from the meeting, he found Ryan and Seth studying at the kitchen table. "Hey, guys!" 

He noticed that Ryan kept his head down, a finger marking the words in his text as he wrote on his paper. Seth popped his head up immediately. "Pops! You're home early today. Playing hooky?"

"Not really. I had a meeting with Barry and Dr. Patel, and it wasn't worth the time to go back to the office." He sat down opposite Ryan, whose pen and finger had ceased their movements at the mention of Barry's name before continuing their tasks. "Don't you want to know how it went?"

Ryan stopped what he was doing and finally looked up at Sandy. "Barry made it pretty clear last time that the case is hopeless, and I can't imagine anything I said to Dr. Patel that would change things." He threw his pen down and closed his text. "I don't know why I'm even bothering."

"You're bothering so you can graduate from high school and go to college." Sandy took a breath and tried to focus. "Look, Ryan, Barry was frustrated the last time you saw him. An affirmative defense can be difficult sometimes. But things are coming together and look promising."

"If you say so." Ryan picked up his books. "I'm going to finish this in the pool house."

Sandy sat with his head in hands. He knew their defense could work, but he also knew that when Ryan learned exactly what they were planning to say, he was going to be even more angry and closed off.

"Dad?"

Sandy picked up his head. He had almost forgotten that Seth was still there.

"Are you and Barry going to get Ryan off? Because you don't look so optimistic right now."

He smiled thinly at Seth. "Trials are tricky things to predict. But if we get a good jury, yeah. I think we can get him off."

Seth nodded, satisfied. "Good."

TBC


	8. Trial Day One

Author's note: Many, many thanks to StoryMom, my legal counsel. Her help was invaluable. Anything I get wrong is because I didn't listen to her. Many thanks to Maudgonne and Silver Weaver, not just for betaing (at which they rule) but also for their constant encouragement.

* * *

Ryan stepped into the courtroom with Sandy at his side. His stomach was doing somersaults as they walked toward the table where Barry was already sitting. Barry and Sandy had spent the past two days on jury selection, but this was Ryan's first time here, which meant the trial was actually starting and was real. 

He sat down at the table, between Barry and Sandy.

"Hey Ryan, how you holding up?"

Ryan just nodded in response, as all the saliva seemed to have drained away the minute he entered the room and he wasn't sure if his tongue would work properly or not.

"Just remember what we talked about and things will be fine." Barry gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, which did nothing to reassure him. He tried concentrating on the advice Barry and Sandy had been drilling into him in the weeks leading up the trial. He was to pay attention to what was going on, not look bored, or too relaxed, or too guilty, and no matter what the prosecution said about him, no matter how untrue, he couldn't let the jury see him upset or angry about it.

He felt a hand on his back. "I'm right behind you, Ryan," Kirsten said.

He nodded without turning around. He actually would have preferred if Kirsten hadn't come. He didn't need her hearing everything that had happened that night. He didn't want to relive everything that happened that night. He wished he could keep the whole trial separate from his life at home. But when he had suggested that Kirsten not come, she had told him not to be silly – she wanted to come and support him. She didn't understand that it wasn't what he wanted.

The bailiff called for everyone to stand up when the judge came in, who then called the jury in.

The prosecutor stood up and addressed the jury. "This case is fairly straightforward, making your job easy. We have a man killed in the course of a fight. We have a defendant who readily admitted to killing that man in the fight. Mr. Atwood readily admitted that the fight was over a girl. He readily admitted that he wasn't attacked. You will hear from witnesses who saw them push each other inside the bar prior to the altercation that resulted in the death of Jake Malloy.

"But now his lawyers are going to tell you this is a case of self-defense. But remember this - at the time of his arrest, Mr. Atwood never made a claim of self-defense. When he was questioned by the police at the station, he never said a word about being the victim. Why? Because Mr. Atwood was not the victim. Hewas angry at the victim. And as a result of that fight, a man is dead, and that makes Mr. Atwood responsible. It is your job to hold Mr. Atwood accountable for his actions that led to the death of Jake Malloy. Thank you."

Barry sat at the table a few moments, studying his notes before he stood up to address the jury. "The death of Jake Malloy is a tragedy. No one is denying that. But Jake Malloy was an angry young man. The night of his death wasn't the only fight he'd had. That was the third time in a month he'd been kicked out of the same bar. It was Ryan's misfortune to be the object of Mr. Malloy's rage that night.

"The prosecution believes that Ryan is guilty because he didn't behave like he was innocent, how they believe an innocent person should behave. Maybe he didn't. But he did behave like a person who grew up in a neighborhood where the police aren't trusted. He behaved like a person who grew up in a home where it was easier to comply with demands placed on him than to fight them. He behaved like a person who grew up in a home where he had to apologize for slights – real or imagined – to avoid dire consequences. He behaved like a person who was a victim so often growing that the only way he could cope was to believe he wasn't a victim and had control over what happened to him.

"Mr. Malloy was taller than Ryan. He weighed more than Ryan. He was angry and looking for someone to take out his anger on. Ryan was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and had the misfortune to not behave as the police and prosecution think he should have. His reactions were perfectly normal based on his life experiences – a life he was a victim of.

"Ryan was not looking for a fight. Ryan tried to avoid the fight. Ryan was only trying to protect himself. He is not responsible for Jake Malloy's death."

By the time Barry finished, Ryan was seething inside. Where did that come from? Why was Barry talking about his life in Chino and calling him a victim of his life?

He felt Sandy's hand on his shoulder, and tried to relax his fists under the table. He knew Sandy was looking at him, but he refused to return his gaze. Instead, he turned his attention to where the prosecution was calling Officer Fontaine as their first witness.

* * *

When Officer Fontaine took the stand, he described what he found when he arrived at the scene. He explained how Ryan was co-operative and that he freely volunteered that they had been fighting over a girl. 

"And did he claim at point to have been attacked by Jake?"

"No."

"And in your experience, when people have been attacked, do they generally make this known?"

"Yes. People who have been attacked are quick to tell us what happened. Mr. Atwood made no attempt to let us know what happened."

"So in your experience, Mr. Atwood did not act like an innocent man?"

"No, he didn't."

"Thank you, Officer Fontaine." The prosecutor turned to the judge. "That's all the questions I have at this time."

"Mr. Dunbar, so you have any questions for Officer Fontaine at this time?"

Barry stood up.

"You say Mr. Atwood didn't behave like you'd expect an innocent person to behave. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Well, did he behave like you'd expect a guilty person to behave?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, do guilty people admit to what happened and co-operate with you the way Mr. Atwood did?"

"Not always, no."

"So Mr. Atwood didn't behave like you'd expect an innocent or guilty person to act. He acted in a unique way to Mr. Atwood. Would that be fair to say?"

"He never said he was attacked. A person who was attacked would say they were attacked."

"Answer the question please, Officer. Would it be fair to say that Mr. Atwood's behavior was unique to Mr. Atwood?"

"Yes."

"Thank you.

* * *

When the judge called a recess for lunch, everyone stood up and stretched, except Ryan. Since they didn't have long, they agreed that the courthouse cafeteria would be the best place for them to go. Kirsten placed her hand on Ryan's back again. "Are you coming to eat, Ryan?" 

Ryan shrugged her hand off. "I'm not really hungry."

"Why don't you go on ahead?" Sandy sat back down beside Ryan. "We'll try to catch up." He turned his attention back to Ryan. "You want to talk?"

Ryan shrugged back at him.

"Okay, let's see if we can find a conference room."

As they walked down the hallway together, Sandy was mentally kicking himself. He and Barry weren't thinking things through when they agreed to wait to tell Ryan what Dr. Patel would be testifying. And now he had to think quickly because he had an angry and confused young man he had to explain things to. Hopefully, he would be more confused than angry, but he wasn't counting on it.

They reached the room the bailiff assigned them and Sandy held the door to let Ryan enter first. He watched Ryan stand by the window, trying to gauge his mood.

"I thought you said we could win this, that if I told the truth about what happened, we could win it."

"Yeah. That's the plan."

Ryan nodded, taking it in. "Then why does Barry think he has to lie? That I'm a victim of my life?"

"That's not how Barry meant it, Ryan. He's just putting it in terms that the jury will understand, to gain their sympathy."

"I've never wanted anyone's sympathy, Sandy."

"No, you're right. And that's what Dr. Patel is going to explain. You never expect anyone's help; you always take the blame for things. It's who you are and explains your reactions that night."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"We were going to tell you before Dr. Patel took the stand. We weren't planning on blindsiding you like this. I forgot about the opening statement."

Sandy watched Ryan's body language. His guard wasn't down yet, but the tension that had been building seemed to be abating. "So you're saying my reactions aren't normal?"

"We're saying they're normal for you."

Ryan slumped into one of the chairs at the table and Sandy sat down beside him. "Ryan, whatever is said about you in the courtroom, doesn't change who you are or how we feel about you. You are still Ryan and we still love you. You've lived with us for two years and we know how you react and feel about things. Hearing that quantified into words won't change anything."

"So you know I'm not normal."

"This isn't about being normal or not normal. You're a strong kid who's been through a tough life and come out the other side. You've got scars on the outside and scars on the inside. It just is what it is."

Ryan sat quietly for a few minutes, as though he were digesting what Sandy had told him. "Does Kirsten have to be here for all of this?"

"She wants to support you."

Ryan looked at Sandy, asking him again with saying word.

"You're lucky Seth can't be here because he's a witness or you'd have him to contend with too." He checked his watch as Ryan hung his head. "You know, we have a few minutes. Let's go see if we can grab a bite to eat before we resume for afternoon. We don't want the judge to hold you in contempt for a grumbling stomach."

* * *

Ryan returned to the courtroom with Kirsten and Sandy. It had been an awkward lunch, which was exactly the reason Ryan wished Kirsten wasn't at the trial. He had quietly picked at his egg salad sandwich as Sandy and Kirsten discussed the opening of a new restaurant. He had pretended not to notice as Kirsten shot Sandy questioning glances about what was wrong, and as Sandy had shaken his head slightly. 

The prosecution's first witness after lunch was the medical examiner. As she brought out pictures of Jake lying in the alley and of his head wound and bruising, Ryan felt like he was going to be sick. He knew he wasn't supposed to look guilty, but he felt guilty. He was responsible for what happened to Jake.

She described how Jake moving backwards, the gravel in the alley, and Jake's intoxication combined to throw him off-balance; how when he fell, he hit his head on the corner of a crate on his way down, resulting in a subdural hematoma, the cause of his death. Along with his fatal injury, he had bruising on his chest and face, indicative of being hit.

As the Medical Examiner described Jake's injuries in detail, Ryan wished he didn't have to sit through it. It was enough just to know it happened. He knew there was no way he could face Kirsten, knowing she had heard exactly what he had done to kill this man. He couldn't look at himself the same way anymore, and he knew she wouldn't either.

The prosecution handed the questioning over to Barry, who went back to Jake's injuries. He asked if Jake's hands had injuries. She turned back to her notes. "Yes, his knuckles were bruised and scraped."

"And what does this indicate to you?"

"That he threw quite a few punches. Hard punches."

"So while his injuries were fatal, this wasn't a one-sided affair. He inflicted quite a bit of damage on whatever he was hitting?"

"Yes, I would say so."

"How big was Mr. Malloy?"

Again, the Medical Examiner checked her notes. "He was … six two. Two hundred and twenty pounds."

Barry nodded like he was impressed, even though Ryan knew he had that in his notes too. "So, he was about my size, give or take a few pounds?"

"Take, probably." She smiled at Barry. "And he was more muscular."

"So he was a big guy, especially compared to Ryan?"

She rifled through her notes a bit more. "I don't have the data on Ryan."

Ryan watched as Barry walked back towards him at the defense table. "Stand up, Ryan, so we can compare."

He hadn't been prepared for this. He thought all he had to do was sit and pay attention. He pushed his chair back from the table and started to stand.

"Objection." Ryan stopped his movements and glanced at the prosecution. "Mr. Dunbar isn't Jake, so it's not really a fair comparison."

"I'm six two," Barry said. "I want to show the height difference."

"Overruled. I'll allow it."

So Ryan stood up with Barry beside him. "So, now would you agree that the difference in their heights was substantial?"

"Yes," she said. "Mr. Malloy was quite a bit taller than Mr. Atwood."

"That's all the questions I have," Barry said.

When the prosecution called for Jake's girlfriend Amanda to take the stand, Ryan went cold inside. She had stuck to her story at the deposition, which meant she was planning to lie on the stand as well. He couldn't figure out why she was doing this. Her testimony was going to be some of the most damning testimony – without her, the prosecution's case would be much weaker. And there was no one to refute it. Only three people were present during the incident but Jake wasn't around to tell his version and Barry wasn't planning on letting Ryan take the stand. So whatever Amanda said was the version of events that the jury was going to hear.

He watched as she walked towards the stand, his eyes boring holes in her as she swore to tell the truth and proceeded to do just the opposite. She claimed to have been waiting for her friend when he came up to her, leaning in too close, making her feel uncomfortable. Jake recognized her uneasiness and came over to help her out. Ryan got belligerent so Jake pushed him away. Ryan retaliated and that's when Jake punched him. She alleged that Ryan was the aggressor, and Jake was just protecting himself and her in the bar before they got kicked out.

He couldn't believe she was doing this. He didn't understand what she had to gain by lying about what happened. Not that it mattered – he couldn't change what she was saying. Maybe Barry could get the truth out of her, but he didn't hold out much hope.

Barry stood up and started questioning everything in her story.

"Did you say Ryan approached you, or did you approach him?"

"Did you say you and Jake were or weren't broken up?"

"Didn't you say that night that you had just broken up with Mr. Malloy?"

"Didn't you ask Mr. Malloy to stop? Wasn't he the one instigating the fight?"

With every question, Amanda stuck to her story. She said Ryan was the one coming on to her; she and Jake had had an argument, but they certainly weren't broken up; and that Jake was only protecting her – Ryan was unquestionably the one who was being aggressive.

Ryan was so frustrated. She was there telling everyone lies and there was nothing he could do about it. He didn't realize how tense he was until Sandy leaned over to whisper in his ear. "Just relax. You don't want the jury to see you so angry."

He concentrated on unclenching his jaw and breathing deeply until Amanda was excused and the judge adjourned the trial until the next morning.

* * *

Seth came home after school to an empty house. Everyone else was at the trial and it sucked that he couldn't go too. 

He wandered out to the pool house. Ryan had been there when he'd gotten home from school every day for the past couple of months and it felt strange that he wasn't there now. Seth flopped down on the bed, as though he were just waiting for Ryan to come out of the bathroom. After a few minutes, he got up and went back into the main house.

He went into the kitchen, in search of a snack. He opened each cupboard and considered the contents – chips, crackers, cereal – but dismissed each one. He pulled out a box of cookies, reached in for one, held it in his hand, and then replaced it. He just wasn't hungry. He stood in front of the fridge, staring at the array of beverages. He settled on a bottle of water and brought it with him into the den.

He flipped through his videogames, trying to decide which one to play. Most of them were more fun with two players and he couldn't find one that appealed to him, so he grabbed his book bag and went up to his room.

He pulled out his economics book and attempted to read the next chapter, but he couldn't concentrate on the words on the page. He finally gave up pretending that he was going to get anything productive done and switched on some music and lay on his stomach with his head hanging over the end of the bed.

He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, he heard the front door opening and voices drifted upstairs to his room. He went down the stairs, past the office where he could hear his dad and Barry talking behind the closed door. He made his way into the kitchen where he found his mom and Ryan poring over take-out menus. "So?" he asked.

"We're thinking Thai for supper," Kirsten said, as Ryan continued to study the menu.

"I don't care about the food." His stomach rumbled, belying his statement. "Okay, I care a little about the food. But I care more about the trial. How'd it go today?"

Ryan merely shrugged so Seth turned to his mom, knowing she'd give him more information than he could ever get out of Ryan.

"Things went as well as we expected."

Seth watched Ryan slumped over the counter. "Ryan doesn't look like things went well. What gives?"

Ryan glared at him.

"One of the witnesses was less than truthful on the stand," Kirsten said.

"Someone lied?" Seth was intrigued. He sat down next to Ryan and pulled the menu away. "Did Barry go all Perry Mason on him and make him admit the truth?"

"It was a she, and there wasn't much Barry could do. If she wants to say I came onto to her when I didn't, she can."

"Who did you come onto?"

"Jake's girlfriend. And I didn't come onto her."

Seth felt some memories slip into place. "Was she a redhead?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

Seth wasn't listening to Ryan as the wheels turned in his head. "Long red hair?" He held his hand in the air. "Yea high?"

"Yeah, Seth. When did you see her?"

The conversation he had overheard in the club, which he had forgotten about completely, was now playing non-stop in his head. He was already halfway to the door. "I need to go talk to Dad."

* * *

He had thought Barry and his dad would have been happy to hear what he had remembered. Instead, they were both upset and yelling at him. 

"Why didn't you tell us about this before? That night in the car? At the deposition? Why wait until now?"

Seth didn't know what to tell them. He just knew that the conversation he'd overheard in the club had completely slipped his mind until he heard Ryan and Kirsten talking about Jake's girlfriend. Then it came to him in a flash, and he could see the girl with long red hair talking about how she had flirted with some guy to make her boyfriend jealous and get him kicked out.

Barry then spent the next hour and a half grilling him and prepping him for his testimony that was likely scheduled for the next day.

TBC


	9. Trial Day Two

Again, many, many thanks to Storymom, my legal counsel. Her help was invaluable. Anything I get wrong is because I didn't listen to her. And many thanks to Maudgonne and Silverweaver, who always come through with the beta-ing.

* * *

On the second day of the trial, the prosecution began by calling Dr. Kormac to the stand. Before they asked him any questions, they wheeled a television into the courtroom so that they could play the video of his interview with Ryan. 

Ryan hated watching himself on videotape at the best of times. Kirsten loved to videotape Chrismukkah morning, and she'd pull the camera out at odd times when the boys were goofing around in the backyard. He would tolerate it but do his best to stay off camera as much as possible, which wasn't actually that difficult when Seth was always hamming it up. But on the occasions when she pulled the tapes out and wanted everyone to watch, he always found something he had to do instead – homework, a phone call – anything so he didn't have to hear himself talk in a weird voice that didn't sound like he thought he sounded, or watch himself do things that made him cringe.

And this wasn't the best of times. This was videotape of an interview with a psychiatrist; an interview in which Barry felt he had screwed himself, gave all the wrong answers, and appeared guilty; an interview with a psychiatrist that everyone, especially Kirsten, was going to see and judge.

When the tape started playing, he wanted to slink down in his chair – disappear under the table and cover his ears with his hands. But he knew if he started to slouch, either Barry or Sandy would poke him in his side, reminding him to sit up straight. Barry had told him he couldn't look defeated by the videotape. He felt defeated by the videotape.

Ryan breathed an inward sigh of relief when the interview was over, only to watch the prosecutor stop, rewind, and play certain sections of it as he asked Dr. Kormac questions, replaying Ryan saying "_I wasn't attacked._"

Barry picked up the remote and pressed play. The next words were Dr. Kormac saying "_I thought you had to defend yourself from him._" and Ryan replying, "_Yeah, but I wasn't attacked._"

"Doesn't he say right there that he had to defend himself? Why wouldn't you have delved further into that?"

"I did delve further. I asked him plenty of times how he was feeling. He said he wasn't scared."

"How many cases do you see a day?"

"Objection. Relevance, Your Honor?"

"I think it's very relevant. If he has too many cases, he may not have devoted the proper amount of time to Ryan that he needed to get a true impression."

"Overruled. You can answer the question."

"There's no specific number. Usually eight to ten."

"Are there always more, or do you ever run out?"

"Oh, there are always more."

"So maybe, there are some cases that don't get all the time they need?"

"That's always a possibility, but in this case I got everything I needed."

"Everything you needed for the prosecution to make its case, or everything you needed to understand my client?"

"Objection!"

"Withdrawn. No further questions."

"Redirect?" The prosecutor got up and rewound the tape. "_I wasn't attacked,_" his taped version said. Ryan wanted to get up and punch his taped version in the face.

"Dr. Kormac, in your professional opinion, did Ryan Atwood feel threatened?"

"No."

"In your professional opinion, was Ryan Atwood a willing participant in the fight?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, Dr. Kormac. The defense rests."

The judge looked at the clock on the wall. "All right, we'll recess for lunch and resume again at one o'clock. Mr. Dunbar, you'll have your first witness ready then?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

He banged his gavel. "Court dismissed until one o'clock."

* * *

As they left the courtroom, Sandy and Barry each pulled out their cell phones. Sandy called Seth to make sure he was on his way while Barry called the other witnesses scheduled for that afternoon. 

Kirsten and Ryan walked together to the cafeteria. They pushed their trays along the smooth metal bars, Kirsten wanting to say something but not knowing what. He hadn't said a word to her since they left the courtroom and seemed to be avoiding her eye. She reached for a chef's salad, trying to think of something light-hearted to say. But since they had all been living the trial for the past few days, it was hard to think of something neutral. As he reached for a tuna sandwich, she heard him say, "I'm sorry."

She stopped her tray and looked at him. "For what?"

He wouldn't look at her, and didn't answer; he just reached in the refrigerated compartment for a juice. She started moving again, not wanting to hold up the line.

"For disrupting everyone's lives and causing this mess."

She turned to him to reply, but he only nodded his head, indicating that the cashier was waiting for her to pay. She paid for the two trays and then led him to a table by the far wall. Once they were seated she watched as he slowly peeled the plastic off his sandwich, careful not to rip it as he did. She opened her salad and shook her packet of dressing. "It's not your fault, Ryan. This could have happened to anyone."

"But it didn't. It happened to me, like it always does."

"You do seem to have more than your fair share of it." She let a smile play at the corners of her mouth. "I think it's part of what makes you so endearing."

He didn't react to her needling, continuing with his self-blame. "It'll be easier once I'm in prison and you won't have to worry about me anymore."

"No matter what the outcome, Ryan, I will always worry about you. You are a part of our family." She tried to lighten the mood again. "You can't get rid of us this easily."

She saw his face soften but he didn't have time to reply before a large hand clapped him on the shoulder as Barry and Sandy sat down beside them. "Why so glum?" Barry said. "I killed in there this morning."

"So did the prosecutor," Ryan said.

"Yeah, well, it's our turn now. We've got a great defense, Ryan. And you've got the best lawyer working for you."

"Hey, now," Sandy said. "Lawyers. He's got the best lawyers working him."

Kirsten watched as Ryan smiled at the two men debating their respective merits. She just hoped they were right.

* * *

When they returned to the floor of the courtroom, they found Seth waiting for them, pacing back and forth. 

"Nervous?" Barry asked.

"Not for me," Seth said. He turned to Ryan. "I wish I could be in there with you."

"Nah, man, it's pretty boring."

"Ryan," Barry said. "It's time to go in."

"I'll see you in a few." Seth held out his hand.

Ryan slapped it back. "Just tell the truth. You'll be fine."

"Always, bro. You'll be fine too."

Once everyone was settled, Barry called their first witness, the bouncer who threw Ryan and Jake out of the club.

"Were you familiar with the deceased before that night?"

"Jake? Yeah. He was at The Palace all the time."

"Did you ever have trouble with him before?"

"All the time. He was always getting drunk and getting into fights. My manager had told me to ban him the next time he caused trouble. So I did, when I threw him out that night."

"What did they do after you escorted them out of the club?"

"I don't know. I didn't stick around. I went back inside."

"Were they still fighting?"

"I think I saw Ryan walk away. I didn't see where Jake went."

"Okay. Thank you."

The prosecution began its questioning. "Had you seen the defendant before that night?"

"No."

"So why did he get thrown out?"

"He was fighting in the bar."

"Not being attacked?"

"Well, he was pushed first. But he pushed back. Then Jake threw a punch and we stepped in before any more punches could be thrown."

"Was Mr. Atwood going to throw a punch?"

"Objection," Barry said. "He can't know what was or wasn't going to happen."

"Sustained."

"I'll rephrase. Could you see Mr. Atwood preparing to punch back?"

"His arm was pulled back. If we hadn't stepped in, it looked like he was going to punch back."

"Thank you."

After hearing both sides question the bouncer, even Ryan felt confused. Both sides had made sense, and he had no idea how they jury was going to decide who had made more points.

The next person Barry called to the stand was the nurse from prison who first examined Ryan. He placed a placard on the courtroom easel, displaying the photographs of the bruises on Ryan's face, neck, and torso. Ryan was embarrassed to look at them. Sandy had been there when the pictures had been taken; Seth had walked in on him unexpectedly in the pool house; but he hadn't let Kirsten see his injuries and he wished she wasn't seeing them now.

Seeing the close-up of the bruises, his hand instinctively rubbed his neck, trying to brush away the phantom memory of hands squeezing out his breath. He couldn't shake the feeling or tear his eyes away from the pictures. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, shivering as he forced the memory away.

Barry pointed at the photographs. "Are these injuries the same as what you saw when you examined him the night of his arrest?"

"Yes."

"Did he tell you about his injuries, or complain about them?"

"No, not at all. I discovered his bruises while doing his routine intake exam. The pressure from the stethoscope was causing him obvious pain. I asked him to remove his shirt and that's when I saw the majority of his bruising."

She went on to describe the bruising and cuts on his face and the bruising around his neck. She said she thought that his ribs were at the very least bruised, if not cracked, but that he refused her offer to tape them up to make him more comfortable.

Barry finished his questioning and turned the witness over to the prosecution. "Were his hands injured?"

The nurse looked at her notes. "Yes. I have here that his knuckles were bruised, scrapped and swollen."

"From punching someone?"

"I don't really know. I don't concern myself with how they get their injuries. I just worry about patching them up."

"Thank you."

Barry called Seth in as a witness. As Ryan watched him enter, he worried about what he was going to say. He knew Seth would tell the truth, but he also knew Seth had a tendency to ramble and speak without thinking when he was nervous. Barry had gone over his testimony with him enough, but who knew what the prosecution might get him to say.

Seth was describing the initial run-in with Jake – Ryan's fateful mistake of not paying attention where he was going. He said how Jake seemed angry at them just because they weren't from around there and that Ryan had even commented on trying to stay out his way for the night.

Seth said that he thought they had done a good job avoiding Jake. Ryan smirked at that, because Seth hadn't been there when he and Jake had had words at the bar. Then Seth had gone to the bathroom and Ryan had disappeared when he got back. He had looked around for a bit and had just about given up when he went outside and found him.

"How did you know to go outside?"

"I heard these two girls talking. One of them said Jake had been kicked out for fighting and the other one told her she'd been flirting with some guy to make Jake jealous. I remember she said Jake because otherwise I wouldn't have thought twice about it but Jake was the name of the guy who had it in for Ryan earlier."

"What did the girls that you overheard look like?"

"They were both short. The first one had short dark hair and the one who said she'd been flirting had long red hair."

"And did you find Ryan outside?"

"Yeah. I got outside in time to see him being driven away in a police car."

"Thank you, Seth. I have no further questions at this point."

The prosecutor stood up and walked back and forth in front of Seth, deep in thought. He stopped and turned towards the witness box. "Tell me again about this conversation you allegedly overheard."

"Allegedly?" Seth looked over at Barry, expecting him to object to the prosecutor calling him a liar. "I did overhear it."

The prosecutor flipped through the pages he was holding in his hand. "Really? Because I have your previous statement here, and you made no mention of this conversation you are now claiming to have heard."

"I had forgotten about it. There was so much other stuff to think about that night that it slipped my mind."

"And what jogged your memory of this supposed conversation?"

"I was talking to my mom and Ryan about the trial. They told me some girl testified that Ryan had come on to her that night and that is so unlike Ryan…"

"Mr. Cohen, stick to answering the question without editorializing, please."

"I thought I was," Seth said. "When they told me about the testimony, I remembered overhearing the girls talking. I described the girl to them; they didn't tell me anything about her."

"What's your relationship with Mr. Atwood?"

"He's my best friend. He lives with my family – he's like my brother."

"And you'd do anything you could to keep him out of jail?"

Seth looked near tears at the accusations being directed towards him. "I wouldn't lie."

"You'll just remember conversations that previously hadn't taken place."

"Objection!" Barry finally interrupted. "Argumentative."

"Sustained."

"How very convenient for Mr. Atwood," the prosecutor said.

"Your honor?" Barry said.

"Withdrawn. No further questions."

* * *

Silence hung in the Cohen kitchen as they ate that night. Ryan could feel Kirsten's eyes boring through him, as though she was trying to see the injuries that had long since healed. Seth was simmering. He was trying to process what happened in the courtroom that afternoon, and Ryan felt that an explosion was coming soon. 

Barry and Sandy came into the kitchen to get some pizza to take back to the office where they were working. Barry put his hands on Ryan's shoulders. "Home stretch now. One more witness and then it's in the hands of jury."

Ryan picked at the toppings on his pizza, eating a mushroom, a piece of pepperoni, pulling at some cheese. "I could always take the stand. Let the jury hear my side of the story."

Barry laughed as he squeezed Ryan's shoulders. "Sure, Ryan. If I let the prosecution question you, I can almost guarantee a conviction."

Ryan just nodded as he tore at a piece of the crust.

"Look, we've done everything we can. Between the testimony today and Dr. Patel's tomorrow, hopefully we've introduced enough reasonable doubt to get an acquittal."

"Hopefully?" Seth looked at his dad. "You said he wouldn't be going to jail. You said you would get him off."

"Seth, I told you we had a good case. And that the jury would most likely take our side. But I didn't promise we'd get Ryan off. And Ryan knows that."

Seth looked from Ryan to Barry and back to his dad. "Did I screw it up by not remembering the conversation earlier?"

"Seth," Barry said. "What happened inside the club isn't as important as what happened outside the club."

Seth pushed back from the table and stalked across the kitchen. He stopped when he reached his dad. "You were supposed to protect him. Not let him go to jail."

After they heard him stomp up the stairs and close his bedroom door, Sandy turned to Kirsten. ''Should I go talk to him, or let him cool down?"

Ryan was wiping his hands on a napkin as he stood up. "I thought I might…"

"Sure." Sandy nodded. "That might be a good idea."

* * *

Ryan knocked on Seth's door and opened it when he got what he interpreted as a grunt of approval. It may have been a grunt of "Leave me alone", but he took his chances. He sat down in the desk chair and swiveled it around so he was facing Seth, who was sprawled on his bed. 

"Hey."

Seth rolled on his side and propped his head up on his hand. "You really might have to go to jail."

"Yeah." Ryan nodded. "Actually, I'll end up in prison, not jail." He tried smiling at Seth, at the absurdity of the conversation, but Seth wasn't ready for joking yet.

"Do you think the jury will believe Amanda's story?"

"I don't see any reason for them not to. We don't have much to refute her story."

Seth sat up on his bed. "I refuted her story."

"Yeah, but I live in your house, which gives you incentive to lie."

"Well, what's her incentive to lie? She told you they were broken up. Why would she change her story?"

"I don't know." Ryan shrugged and shook his head. "I've been trying to figure it out. It's just, sometimes I guess, death changes things."

"What do you mean?"

Ryan was remembering the family that lived next door to them when they first moved to Chino. The husband was the meanest son of a bitch Ryan had ever known. He beat his wife, he beat his kids, he beat the dog. He drank his paycheck away and expected his wife to work two jobs. He had heard the wife badmouthing her husband to his mom all the time. When the husband died in a construction accident, he expected everyone to be happy to be rid of him. But the wife was distraught and all the neighborhood women offered condolences and everyone seemed to be singing his praises to her. He had wanted to ask his mom why everyone was sad, but he was old enough to know better than to question why adults did what they did.

"She may not have wanted to be with him, but she didn't want him to not be there at all. I guess she wants me to pay for taking him away."

"Do you think it'll work?"

"Barry seems to think Dr. Patel can explain my actions so that the jury will understand."

"What's she going to say?"

Ryan thought back to Barry's opening statement. "I don't know."

* * *

The doorbell was ringing as Ryan came back down the stairs. He opened the door and found Dr. Patel waiting outside. 

"Hi, Ryan."

He took a step back. "Come on in. Barry and Sandy are around the corner in Sandy's office."

"Thanks." Her high heels clicked on the marble floor. "Can I talk to you for a few minutes first?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"You always have a choice."

Ryan smiled at her and led her into the living room. "You say that."

They sat down at either end of the couch. "So. How's the trial going for you?"

Ryan sighed. "It's rough."

Dr. Patel didn't say anything, waiting for him to continue.

"Just … reliving it. You know?"

She nodded.

"And having other people relive it with me."

"The people who love you will get past it."

"I guess."

Dr. Patel sat quietly for a few moments before changing the subject. "Did Barry and Sandy tell you what I'm going to say tomorrow?"

"Barry's opening statement sort of gave it away. Something about being a victim of my life to make the jury feel sorry for me?"

"Is that how Barry said it?"

Ryan shrugged.

"Well, that's more of a lawyer's view – his way of boiling it down for the jury. I wouldn't say victim of your life; more a product of your life. Everyone's reactions are shaped by their upbringing and different … events … have different effects on people. How you react to authority and force and in the face of trouble is a result of your experiences. And that's what I'm going to tell the jury tomorrow.

"But Ryan, just because your actions can be explained by your past, doesn't mean you can't work on changing how you react to things."

Ryan nodded, without looking at Dr. Patel, but he didn't agree with her. His reactions were automatic, not anything he thought about. How could he change that? He chewed on his inner cheek, bracing himself for whatever else she was going to say. He could feel her looking at him.

"Okay, Ryan, I think the trial is enough for you to deal with right now. But eventually, in the future, I'd like to see you look back at your life and think about why you are who you are."

He glanced over at her as she stood up.

"I think you're a great kid, Ryan, with big things in your future."

"If the jury agrees with you."

She smiled at him. "I'll do my best to convince them of it."

Ryan sat on the couch for a few minutes after Dr. Patel left, thinking about the trial and wondering exactly what she was going to say to the jury. When he got up to go to the pool house, he could see Kirsten sitting at the dining table. Wanting to avoid any more conversations that night, he decided to bypass the kitchen and head out the patio doors instead. Tomorrow his future would lie in the hands of 12 men and women who had never met him before and knew nothing about him.

He glanced back at Kirsten before he opened the pool house door. She hadn't trusted him when they first met, and he hadn't even killed anyone at that point. Why should he think the jury would feel any different?


	10. Trial Day Three

Many thanks to my betas maudgonne and silverweaver. Many thanks to my legal counsel, storymom. Portions of this chapter were borrowed from a website but I can't get the link to work here. It's called Format of a Criminal Trial.

* * *

As the third day of the trial began, Ryan sat at the defense table, palms flat, watching them as he thrummed his fingers against the wood. Barry was going over a few last minute things with Dr Patel and Sandy and Kirsten were talking to Seth.

Seth had been quite upset that morning to learn that he still wouldn't be allowed into the courtroom and his parents expected him to go to school that morning. With the end of the trial and the possibility of a verdict, he had put his protesting into overdrive and his parents had finally agreed to allow him to come to the courthouse even if he had to wait in the hallway.

Sandy slipped into his seat beside him. "You ready for this, kid?"

"If I wasn't, would it change things?"

Sandy put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "What she says won't change how we feel about you."

"Yeah. And hopefully it'll keep me out of prison, right?"

"Right."

The bailiff entered then and called the courtroom to order. Once everyone was settled, Barry called Dr. Patel to the stand.

"Dr. Patel, can you state for the record your expertise, please?"

"I'm a psychiatrist who specializes in dealing with adult survivors of child abuse and grown children of alcoholics."

"And how does this expertise apply to Ryan?"

Dr Patel pulled out a file folder that was obviously quite thick. "This is Ryan's social services file. It documents the many times over the years that the Atwood family was investigated. Suspicions of neglect when he arrived at school hungry, dirty; unexplained injuries, black eyes, bruises. He moved in permanently with a foster family when he was sixteen after his mother abandoned him and wasn't able to properly care for him due to her alcoholism."

"And does Ryan behave like someone who's grown up in an abusive, alcoholic household?"

"There's no one way that survivors of abuse act. Different people process the experience in different ways. But Ryan's behavior can be explained in terms of how his experiences shaped him."

"The prosecution claims that Ryan's behavior indicates his guilt - that his own words and actions belie his claim of self-defense. Are you saying that because of his childhood, his words and actions can be interpreted differently?"

"Exactly. There's more to what he's saying than we can hear."

"When the police first arrived, Ryan didn't ask for help or say he was a victim of a crime. Does this surprise you?"

"Not at all. Growing up, Ryan wouldn't have had positive experiences with authority, making him less likely to trust the police and ask for help."

Ryan didn't think those words belonged in the same sentence. Positive experiences with the police? They always said they were there to help. Just tell them the truth and things would be better. Kids who told the police the truth ended up in foster care, living in a house where no one cared, no better off than when they were with their parents, really.

Or they stormed into the house, guns pointed at anything that moved, holding back the kids who just wanted to protect their dad – their dad who was thrown to the floor and had a knee shoved into his back as his hands were cuffed. Holding back the kids who just wanted to hug their dad before he got taken away, telling them they'd be better off without their dad, that it was all for the best.

Or they made assumptions that because you were poor you deserved to be thrown in jail because you weren't worth anything anyway, or because you were rich you deserved to be thrown in jail because it would teach you a lesson about how the world worked.

In Ryan's experience, the police didn't look at you like a person – they looked at you as a criminal no matter what the case. And he wasn't going to ask them for help because he didn't expect it.

Ryan refocused on what Barry and Dr. Patel were talking about. Barry had brought the video interview with Dr. Kormac out again and they were discussing Ryan's aversion to the word attacked.

"Why did Ryan refuse to say he was attacked?" Barry said.

"In some cases of abuse, the child rejects the idea that he is a victim. He doesn't like to be seen as weak. The word 'attack' brings connotations of one person getting the better of the other. You'll note he doesn't deny that he was defending himself, because that means he was standing up for himself. It's the idea that he was helpless and attacked that he vehemently denies."

Ryan wasn't sure he liked the way Dr. Patel kept calling him abused. He never considered himself abused. His dad hit him and Trey and his punishments might be harsher than anything Seth's ever seen, but he had generally done something to deserve the punishments his dad handed out. And some of the assholes Dawn had brought home could get rough, and none worse than AJ, but they were just trying to prove that they were in charge of things and didn't like being mouthed off to. It wasn't abuse.

"Some children of alcoholics have a tendency to internalize blame," Dr. Patel said. "They feel responsible for everything that happens around them, whether it's something they have control over or not. So when the officer asked him what happened, he wasn't going to answer with the fact that he wasn't at fault, because everything is always his fault in his mind."

With that, Barry finished questioning the doctor and it was the prosecution's turn. "Did Mr. Atwood tell you all of this? That he doesn't trust police, that he doesn't like to be seen as a victim, that he was abused as a child?"

"No," Dr. Patel said. "That's the point. He doesn't realize what motivates his actions."

"So you're talking in generalizations. 'In some cases of abuse.' 'Some children of alcoholics.' This may not apply to Mr. Atwood at all."

"I've interviewed him extensively; I've reviewed his history; I'm an expert in this field. I can recognize the behavior. Ryan shows classic signs of a person who refuses to be a victim, who has a distrust of authority, and who internalizes blame. Just because he doesn't recognize it in himself doesn't mean that I can't identify it or that it isn't there."

"I have no further questions for this witness."

"Mr. Dunbar," the judge said, "you may call your next witness."

Barry stood up. "Your Honor, the defense rests."

The prosecutor began his closing statement. "Ladies and gentlemen. The defendant himself admitted to fighting with the victim in the alley. He was seen fighting with the victim in the bar earlier. He made no effort to inform the police that he might have been the victim, and later denied that he was even attacked. Beyond any reasonable doubt, the defendant is absolutely one hundred percent guilty as charged. In the interest of justice, in the interest of the victim of this terrible madness, the People of this State ask you to find the defendant guilty of Manslaughter in the Second Degree."

When the prosecutor concluded his statement, he returned to his table and sat down. Ryan waited for Barry to get up. He glanced over at him when he didn't make a move immediately. Barry grinned and winked at him, and then got up to deliver his closing statement. "Ladies and gentlemen. The State hasn't proven its case. It's proven that Ryan was in the alley and we've already capitulated to that. No doubt, the judge will remind you of the burden of reasonable doubt. This is not a civil trial. We require extremely higher levels of proof. Surely you must have doubts. The first and most obvious – Ryan Atwood is not stupid. Why would he willingly enter that alley alone with an angry man who has five inches and fifty pounds on him? Second, the circumstantial evidence is susceptible to two different interpretations, one pointing to guilt and another pointing to innocence. By law, if reasonable, you must adopt that interpretation that points to innocence and reject any misguided interpretations which point to guilt. Their expert is an overworked psychiatrist who has to rush through his cases, unable to give them the time needed to delve into them properly. Our expert had time to learn about Ryan, and see that his actions didn't belie guilt – they belied an abusive upbringing over which he had no control.

"The victim was known at the bar for fighting. Ryan was shown time and again trying to walk away from the fight. We don't want a verdict of not guilty because you feel sorry for Ryan, who has been wrongfully accused. We demand a verdict of not guilty because he is absolutely one hundred percent innocent. The time has come for you to decide, and the choice may not be as difficult as you might think. If you are not one hundred percent certain that he entered that alley on his own volition with intent to continue the fight, you must return a verdict of not guilty."

Once the closing arguments were concluded, the judge read the jury its instructions and sent them off to deliberate.

As everyone started to file out of the courtroom, Ryan turned to Sandy. "So what do we do now?"

"Now we wait."

* * *

Sandy, Kirsten, and Seth went off in search of food, but Ryan begged off. He had no need to hear a rehash of the morning's events and he knew his stomach wasn't going to be receptive to food anyway. 

He wandered outside to the wide concrete steps in front of the courthouse and sat down off to the side. He leaned back on his hands, closed his eyes and let the sun wash over his upturned face. He tried to let his mind go blank. It had been in overdrive the past few days, and there was nothing he could do now.

Eventually, he was aware of a presence beside him. He squinted as he opened his eyes and saw Sandy sitting beside him, holding out an apple.

"I thought you could use some nourishment."

Ryan took it from him and slowly began shining it on his pants.

"Things'll work out."

Ryan glanced over at him. "You don't know that. The jury can just as easily convict."

"Even if they do, Ryan, we'll make things work."

"If they convict, I'm done. I'll be just like my father and brother."

"Don't say that. You can do college courses by correspondence. You can still work for a better life."

"Have you ever been inside? There's no 'improving yourself' or 'a better life'. There's surviving and getting out in one piece. If you're lucky." He glanced over and saw a pained expression on Sandy's face. "Maybe we shouldn't talk about this right now."

"Maybe you're right." Sandy stood up. "But I will give you something to think about. You may want to give up on yourself, but Kirsten, Seth, and I will never give up on you."

After Sandy walked away, Ryan stared at his apple before finally sinking his teeth into it.

* * *

Eventually, Ryan made his way back inside. He saw Kirsten and Sandy sitting together; he gave a slight wave as he walked past, still not in the mood for more conversation. He found his way to a row of vending machines, and stood in front of one, trying to decide what he wanted to drink. 

"The Jedi mind trick won't work on getting stuff out of the machines," Seth said, walking up beside him. "I know, because I tried it. You need actual money. Want me to go ask Mom?"

Ryan held out his fist and jingled the quarters he was holding.

"Ah, you got it covered. I could still ask Mom. She doesn't need to know you have your own money."

Ryan narrowed his eyes at Seth and then went back to staring at the machine.

Seth turned around and leaned against the next machine. "God, I hate waiting."

"You don't have to be here. You could have gone to school."

"And Mom should have gone to work?"

Ryan shrugged.

"You don't get it, do you?"

Ryan started to drop his quarters into the machine. "Get what?"

"You don't get to deal with things on your own anymore. Once a Cohen, always a Cohen. It's a blessing and a curse."

Ryan rolled his eyes at Seth.

"All right. You don't want to talk, I'll leave you alone." Seth pushed himself up from the machine. "But I'll still be here."

As Seth walked away, Ryan punched his selection and waited for it to fall.

* * *

He walked back down the hallway and found Seth playing his Gameboy and Kirsten, who appeared to be reorganizing her purse. She looked up as he walked by. "Have you had anything to eat yet?" 

He showed her his bottle of Coke.

"That's not overly nutritious," she said.

He sank into the seat beside her. "Sandy gave me an apple earlier."

"Did you eat it?"

He grinned at her. "Yes. You know, you don't have to worry about me."

"I know I don't have to," she said. "But I do anyway."

Sandy returned with a newspaper, and shared the sports section with Ryan. Then Seth pulled out his iPod, so Ryan played with the Gameboy for a while. Eventually, Barry appeared again, looking at his watch. "I have a feeling we're not going to get the verdict today."

Just then his phone started to ring. "That's probably the judge's clerk, letting me know that the judge sent the jury home for the night."

He opened his phone. "Yes. Okay. When? Right. Thanks." He closed his phone again. "I was wrong. Verdict's in."

TBC


	11. Verdict

**Author's note: **First off, apologies for taking so long - a number of factors conspired against me. I don't think I've ever gone this long between chapters before. For this chapter, I need to thank Brandywine421 for helping to jumpstart me in the middle - brainstorming is a fabulous thing; thank you to Fredsmith518 for an awesome beta job; and to Maudgonne for making me make this better - seriously, folks, you wouldn't have wanted to read the first draft. Overall, thanks tostorymom for her awesome legal advice and general encouragement; to Silverweaver for her great insight; and to Maudgonne who started it all with an innocent little question - though I've learned since that none of maudgonne's questions are innocent. And thanks to everyone who stuck with me and read along. I really appreciate all your comments.

* * *

Ryan sat at the defense table and watched the jury file in. He studied their faces, trying to determine which way they might have decided. One of the women glanced his way and smiled at him, but he couldn't tell if it was a sympathetic smile, indicating she was sorry for the way things were going to go, or a happy smile, indicating she was happy for him. 

Then the judge ordered him to stand, and Barry and Sandy stood beside him, and the judge asked the jury for their decision. The foreman stood up and read from his piece of paper. "In the case of the State of California versus Ryan Atwood, for the charge of Manslaughter in the Second Degree, we find the defendant…" He paused and Ryan sucked in his breath. "…guilty."

Ryan went numb with disbelief. He didn't know why he was so surprised. The Atwood luck would dictate this ending. He felt Sandy put his arm around him, and heard Barry whisper that they'd get started on the appeal as soon as they could. After the judge thanked the jury for their time, Barry asked for a continuance on his bail until the sentencing hearing.

* * *

Ryan woke up early the next morning. Not so much woke up as gave up trying to sleep. It was a dreadful feeling, knowing he only had a few more nights of freedom before he had to go to prison. Both other times he was arrested on the spot and had no time to think about what was going to happen. He thought he'd rather have just gone straight to prison after the verdict. Not that he wanted to spend more time in prison than he had to, but this limbo he was in right now was a different kind of punishment. 

He looked around the pool house, at all his things that cluttered it up. He couldn't believe how much stuff he had amassed in his time with the Cohens. He thought they wouldn't want it laying around for the next three to five years, and headed to the garage to get some boxes to put it away.

As he came back through the den, he found Seth in the kitchen. He mumbled a greeting without stopping, hoping Seth would get the message to leave him alone for a bit.

"What are you doing with the boxes?"

No such luck. Seth was trailing behind him across the patio.

"Packing up my stuff." He stopped once he got through the door, trying to figure out where to start as Seth plopped himself down on the bed.

"Why?"

Ryan glared at him as he walked over to his shelving unit to start with the clothes. "So my stuff won't be in your parents' pool house and they can use it again."

"It's your pool house, Ryan."

"I'm not going to be needing it for a while, Seth, and they don't need my stuff cluttering up the place."

Ryan dragged a garbage can and a second box over to his desk and started going through his drawers.

"Your stuff doesn't clutter up the place. Seriously, man, have you seen my room? That's what you call clutter."

Ryan dumped all his personal papers into the garbage can, saving anything the Cohens had given him in the box.

Seth started rifling through the garbage can and pulled out a piece of paper. "You threw out your Honors Certificate?"

"I don't need it where I'm going."

"Mom would have a fit if she knew you were throwing this out. They were so proud of you, when you made the Honors List."

"I'm not much to be proud of now; that paper's worthless." Ryan tried to grab it back from him, but Seth was quicker and held it out of reach.

"Stop talking like that, Ryan. You're so much more than this."

"Damn it, Seth, if you can't be quiet, just get out." Seth's constant yammering and questioning everything he was doing was more than Ryan could take. When he saw Seth's face drop, he regretted his words but he didn't take them back.

"I'll just leave you alone then," Seth mumbled, then turned and left the pool house. Ryan picked up the garbage can and threw it across the room in frustration. He watched the papers settle to the floor from one side of the room to the other, and then sat down on the ledge and hung his head. As bad as things felt right now, he knew they were going to get much, much worse before they ever started to get better.

There was a knock at the door and he looked up to see Sandy surveying the paper-strewn room. "What's going on?" Sandy said.

"Nothing. Just, getting ready, I guess."

Sandy stopped to pick up some of the papers as he made his way over to Ryan. He glanced inside one of the boxes. "Packing up?"

Ryan felt Sandy was just making conversation and didn't feel a real need to answer him.

"What do you want us to do with your boxes?"

"Whatever you want. Give it away, sell it, throw it out. You guys bought it – it's your stuff. I don't need it anymore."

"We'll just put it in storage for you then."

They sat together silently for a few minutes. Finally Sandy waved the papers in his hand, gesturing towards the rest still on the floor. "Did the papers do something to you?"

Ryan rolled his eyes. "No. I yelled at Seth."

"Yeah. He told me."

Ryan sighed. "I want to tell him and Kirsten not to come to the sentencing. I think it would be easier."

"First off, none of it's going to be easy. And second off, they're both going to be testifying so they have to be there."

"Testifying? For what?"

"That you're an upstanding citizen and this incident is in no way a reflection of your character and you deserve the lightest possible sentence."

"They don't need to do that."

"Well, yeah, they do. But even if they didn't need to, they'd want to. You don't have to do this alone."

"Yeah, I do. You're not going to be in there with me." Ryan knew. He knew how lonely it was to be in a cell, scared of what might happen, scared of what was going to happen. All the support Sandy wanted to give him wasn't going to prevent that.

"No, we won't. But we'll help you however we can and we'll be here when you get out. You can't push us away. That's what you're doing with Seth, right? Yelling at him, hoping he'll get mad and stop trying to stay a part of your life?"

Ryan glared at Sandy. He hated that he could always figure out what Ryan was doing, even sometimes when Ryan wasn't sure he was doing it.

"Look, Ryan. It's tough. I'm not denying that. But don't cut us out. We love you. We want to help you through this."

Ryan chewed on the inside of his cheek. "You've already done more than enough…"

"And we'll keep doing everything we can." Sandy put his arm around Ryan's shoulders and pulled him a little closer. "Now. Do you want help cleaning up these papers?"

Ryan was going to tell him no, it was his mess and he'd clean it up. Then he looked at Sandy's face and changed his mind. "Sure. If you want to help, you can help."

* * *

Ryan spent the rest of the day by himself in the pool house and the Cohens seemed to be leaving him alone for the most part. Sandy popped in to see if he wanted some lunch and when he didn't go in for supper, Kirsten brought him a plate of food. She lingered like she wanted to say something, but ended up just leaving. Seth didn't come out at all. 

He spent the night tossing and turning again, but must have finally dropped off at some point because he woke up to Seth hovering over him. "Come run some games with me," he said.

Ryan sat up, rubbing at his eyes. "I don't know, man. I'm not really in the mood…"

"Come on, Ryan." Seth's voice was verging on whining. "Not to make this all about me, but this is my last day to play against someone with skill. Give me this small joy. Please. After today, I have to play by myself or…" He gave a dramatic shudder. "…Dad."

Ryan stretched, waking his body up. "All right. Give me a few minutes."

By the time he got inside, Seth had two bowls and spoons set up and an array of cereals on the counter. He had just poured himself a bowl of Cap'n Crunch when Kirsten breezed into the room. She stopped short, as though surprised to find Ryan inside, but quickly recovered and smiled at them. "Are you boys up to anything today?"

"Just some PlayStation this morning," Seth said. Kirsten looked questioningly at Ryan, so he shrugged at her in confirmation.

"Good." Kirsten nodded her head and finished pouring herself a cup of coffee. "I'll leave you two to it, then." She picked the newspaper from the counter and slipped it under her arm and then left the kitchen in the direction of her bedroom.

Seth was standing beside him, watching him eat. "You ready?"

"Sure," Ryan said as he shoveled the last couple of bites into his mouth.

* * *

Playing videogames with Seth, Ryan could get lost in his head, wrapped up in what was happening on the screen and block out what, and who, were around him. He was aware of both Sandy and Kirsten walking by where they were playing. Kirsten dropped off some snacks mid-morning; Sandy joked with Seth about how Ryan was kicking his butt at the moment. 

Sandy grilled burgers for lunch, and Kirsten made a salad. Again, the Cohens carried on conversations around him, allowing him to just be and he was thankful for that. When he finished eating, he pushed back from the table and stood up.

"What are you doing now, Ryan?" Sandy's voice boomed at him.

He paused. "I just thought I'd go for a walk down to the beach this afternoon."

"That sounds lovely," Kirsten said. "Wait up and we'll all go."

"A family walk!" Sandy said. "A grand idea."

A family walk was the last thing on Ryan's mind. He wanted some time to himself, to be alone with his thoughts. He didn't want to spend more time with these people who meant the world to him and who he had to leave.

But Seth spoke before he could object. "A family walk? Gee, Dad, how very Ward Cleaver of you."

"Are you saying you don't want to come?" Sandy asked.

"No, I want to come. I just feel it's my duty as a teenager to protest any activity that has the word 'family' in it. It's kind of minty to admit to wanting to go on a family walk. You guys just have to walk behind us and we'll pretend we don't know you."

And when they set off down the path, Ryan and Seth were in front while Sandy and Kirsten walked behind them, holding hands. Seth started a debriefing of their gaming session that morning, reliving all his moves where he defeated Ryan's character, explaining how he could have done things differently when Ryan defeated him. When Ryan rolled his eyes at Seth's claim that he could beat Ryan at anything, Seth said, "I didn't mean to make you feel bad. I'm sure there are things you can beat me at. Like…" Seth thought for a minute. "Like a foot race. Yes, I'm sure you could beat me at a foot race, what with me being an unathletic Jew and all." He jogged ahead a little and then turned around. "We'll race up to that rock."

"I'm not racing you, Seth."

"Are you scared you're going to lose again, Ryan?" He bounced back and forth on his feet.

"I'm not scared. I just don't feel like running."

"I disagree, my friend. I think you are scared. You're scared you'll lose to me, and then you'll be a marked man in prison, knowing you were defeated by, well, me."

Ryan knew Seth would keep pestering him until he got his way, so he took off running. "Fine then. Go!"

He caught Seth off guard. "Hey! You don't play fair."

Ryan kept a pace so that he was always just ahead of Seth, letting him get almost caught up and then pulling away again. Then he picked up his pace, pulling further and further ahead. It felt good, the burning in his lungs and the aching in his legs.

"Hey, Ryan, wait up!"

Hearing Seth ask him to slow down just spurred him on faster. He passed the rock that Seth designated as the finish line and kept going. Finally, when he could run no further, he collapsed onto the sand, lying spread eagle and staring up at the cloudless sky. He lay there breathing deeply, listening to the roar of the waves as they hit the shore, to the shriek of the gulls overhead, to the silence that wasn't silent.

Eventually, Seth landed on the sand beside him, gasping for breath. "That wasn't…one of my…better…ideas. I think…I ran more…today than…in my whole life…put together."

They lay on the sand, catching their breaths. When Sandy and Kirsten arrived, they sat between them, Kirsten next to Seth, Sandy next to Ryan. "Mommy," Seth said, crawling closer to Kirsten, "I think I'm dying."

"What were you two doing?" Kirsten laughed. "Racing?"

"I felt bad that I trounced him so soundly this morning, I wanted to do something so that he could beat me. You know, so he could go to prison feeling like a winner."

"Seth!"

"It's okay, Kirsten," Ryan said. "Someone had to say it out loud."

"It's not that we don't want to talk about it-" Kirsten said.

Ryan nodded. "It's just that it's weird."

Sandy clapped a hand on Ryan's shoulder. "I will say, Ryan, that you've kept life interesting since you came to live with us."

"At least you won't have to worry about fistfights breaking out at any charity events anymore."

When Kirsten started crying, Seth put his arm around his mom. "Don't worry, Mom. I'll put the beat down on someone at the next party if it'll make you feel better."

Kirsten smiled through her tears. "Seth."

Sandy stood up and brushed the sand off his shorts. "What do you guys say we head back?" He held a hand out and pulled Ryan up as Kirsten and Seth stood up.

As they started walking back, Kirsten slipped her arm around Ryan's waist. "I'm going to miss you."

"Me too," he said. They walked in silence, watching Seth and Sandy in front of them, each trying to push the other deeper into the edge of the water.

* * *

When they got back from their walk, Kirsten told Ryan he could pick whatever he wanted to eat that night. 

"Kind of like a last supper?" he said. He started to smile at Kirsten, but stopped when he saw her smile drop off her face. "Sorry," he said. "Bad joke…again."

"It wasn't funny then," Kirsten said, "and it's even less funny now."

"It's a little bit funny," Seth said, smiling.

"Yeah, honey," Sandy said, coming up behind her and putting his arms around her. "Sometimes it helps to laugh."

But Ryan could see that Kirsten was closer to crying than laughing. "I never had Thai before I lived with you guys and it's something I'll always associate with Cohens."

Kirsten's face brightened up a bit. "Thai?"

"Yeah."

* * *

After supper, Ryan went outside to sit by the pool and watch the sunset one last time. Seth followed him out, but Ryan told him he'd rather be alone with his thoughts. When Seth promised to be quiet, Ryan looked at him skeptically, but agreed to allow him to stay. After the third time Ryan glared at him for starting to talk, Seth realized he couldn't keep quiet and left him alone. 

He was still outside when he saw the light go on in Sandy and Kirsten's bedroom. Soon after, Sandy came out to talk to him. "You staying here all night?"

"Maybe. I won't have the opportunity to be outside for a long time, so I thought I'd take advantage."

"Kirsten sent me out with a blanket."

Before Ryan had a chance to protest, Sandy had shaken it out and laid it over him. "Thanks."

"I'll see you in the morning?" Sandy said.

Ryan nodded.

"And you'll go inside if you get cold?"

"Sure, Sandy."

* * *

Ryan woke up as the sun was coming up. Seth was beside him, and he noticed that he had another blanket on him. 

Seth handed him a cup of coffee. "So. I guess this is it."

Ryan nodded.

"Thanks, man. For everything. You completely changed my life when you came here."

"Yeah, well, thanks back. My life definitely improved since I moved here. Well, up until now."

"Yeah, now kind of sucks."

"Now definitely sucks."

Silence descended over them.

"Want some cereal?" Seth asked.

* * *

The sentencing hearing went pretty much as expected. The prosecution paraded a bunch of people from Jake's life across the stand who claimed how awful it was that Jake was dead and what a hardship it would be to his family and how he didn't deserve to die so young. And people from Ryan's life, like Dr Kim, who testified that this wasn't the first time Ryan got in trouble with his fists. 

Then it was Barry's turn to call people from Ryan's life who could demonstrate that Ryan wasn't a bad person, that he was intelligent and hard working, and that he deserved a light sentence for one horrible mistake that wasn't his fault.

The judge deliberated an hour and came back with a sentence of three years, the shortest possible term they could hope for. It meant that Ryan would be up for parole at the end of his first year.

The guard walked towards him, but then stood to the side to give him a chance to say good-bye. He wished he didn't have the chance; he hadn't wanted them here to see him locked up. He had wanted to tell them not to come visit him even, but he knew that request would fall on deaf ears. The Cohens rarely let him retreat by himself, never let him pull away no matter how many times he tried. They refused to be pushed away.

He turned to Kirsten, whose tears were glistening in her eyes, and gave her a hug.

"You'll be okay," she said, and Ryan wasn't sure if she was reassuring him or her. He knew she was the one he hurt the most. She hadn't wanted to let him into her home, had expected trouble from him, and though it had taken a few years, she had been right. She had been the most wary of accepting him. If she hadn't given in to Sandy and Seth in the first place, she wouldn't be in this courtroom worrying over him.

"After the last couple years of your cooking, at least my stomach is prepared for prison." She laughed a little at this, and Ryan was glad because he'd rather see her laughing than crying right now.

"Hey, man." Seth slapped Ryan's hand. "I'm sorry things didn't work out better."

"The story of my life."

Seth pulled him into a hug. "I'm going to miss you."

"Me too, man." Ryan turned quickly away from Seth because he didn't think he could look at him. He'd never had a friend like Seth before. He had always been the little brother and the sidekick before he came to Newport. At first, it had been weird being the one who knew more and who had experienced more. But as much as he had taught Seth about the real world, Seth had taught him about trust and acceptance.

Finally he turned and shook Sandy's hand. "Thanks for everything you've done."

Sandy pulled him closer. "I'm not done yet. You know that, right?"

Ryan did know that. For some reason, Sandy would never give up on him no matter how much he screwed up. Sandy was always doing more and offering more and giving more. His own parents had given up on him long ago. The first time he'd been arrested, his mother washed her hands of him, kicking him out. But Sandy never seemed to think he wasn't worth it.

Ryan turned the guard and put his hands behind his back. "Okay, I'm ready."

The guard locked the metal cuffs on his wrists and led him away. Ryan didn't look back, because he didn't want to spend his first day in prison getting beat up for crying. Instead, he chewed a hole in his cheek, incredulous that he could be so fortunate to have found a family that thought he was worth fighting for.

THE END


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